


Necesito que confiar en alguien

by LynyrdSkynyrd



Series: Learning To Love [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynyrdSkynyrd/pseuds/LynyrdSkynyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not like Cristiano cares. Cristiano does not hate him, of course he does not, he does not know the guy, he has no reason to hate him. It is just.. they are not friends and he barely knows him, only from award ceremonies and El Clásico. But even though he keeps telling himself that he does not care, it is hard to ignore someone vomiting up his soul in the same room with you.</p><p>Or where Cris witnesses Leo's vomiting problems (which we already know from Marca and other tabloids) and can't stop worrying about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yulin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/gifts).



> "Vomit up his soul" is actually from [this article](http://thedrawbridge.org.uk/issue_17/flea_mimics_bumblebee/). I suggest you to read it.
> 
> I wrote this in January (changed some parts after the season ended for Real) but never finished it. Now I am thinking maybe I should keep writing this.. 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://franzkafkaesque.tumblr.com)!

Cris is not sure when or how he started to feel this way. Of course he has never hated the guy but this.. this thing he feels for him is so different than everything he's ever experienced. If he thinks really hard, he would remember the friendly between Argentina and Portugal. Maybe his feelings were different back then but it is where everything started.

 

December, 2015.

When ref blows the half time whistle, Cris knows he won't be coming back onto the pitch. He understands this the moment his eyes meet with Fernando's. And for once, Cris does not complain. In the end it is just a friendly and his team is doing better than he thought, it is still 0-0 despite Agüero and Messi being on the pitch. Plus important matches for Real Madrid are coming and Cristiano cannot afford to tire himself or worse, get injured. He loves his country but he has responsibilities and he won't ruin Real Madrid's title hopes for the sake of a friendly. 2015 didn't start very good for him. And it ended.. not so bad. His performance was not bad, he was decent. But as the person he is, decent is never enough. And 4th trophyless season in 7 made everything worse. And that was the final nail in coffin for Ancelotti. Cris disagrees with media (as usual), lately Real Madrid is building a very strong team (but Perez always makes it harder for them) and it somehow makes Cris feel bad. He is happy for his team but his birthday is coming and it only reminds him that he does not have much time left to spend with this team and most importantly, football. Of course, with the body he has, he could play 'till he is 40, Mendes agrees with that. But Cris is not sure if he wants to. Wouldn't quitting at the top be better? Like Xavi did last season. He does not know Xavi well in real life but he agrees that, his departure from Barça came at the best time for him.

He takes off his jersey and without feeling the need to change his clothes, he walks toward the tunnels. He wants to stay away from his cheerful teammates and the noises they make. He wants to rest. To spend some peaceful time only with his own thoughts, he heads to the main bathrooms instead of the ones in locker room. Despite it being winter, it is not so cold in Istanbul (this is where Argentina and Portugal chose to face this time) and Cris ran 5 metres in the first half. He was sweaty when he left the pitch.  

And suddenly, he hears a strange noise coming from one of the cubicles.

First he thinks it is one of the employees that working in the stadium. He hopes so. Because he has no intention to deal with a crazy fan driving him into a corner and begging him to sign his jersey. He only came here to spend some time alone.

But there is no reason to feel trapped. Because there is no fan in view and only one of the cubicles door is locked. Cris can see oh so familar boots under the door. He knows whose boots are these because they have his logo on them. Cris can easily see his feet under the cubicle door. When he bends a little, he sees his knees pressed against the cold tiles and his Albiceleste socks. He hears it again.

Gagging sound.

Cristiano stands there for a second, not knowing what to do. Then he realizes he does not have to do anything and it is none of his business and he shrugs. He and Messi have a professional relationship but they are no friends. And if he was Messi, he would hate to be disturbed and not to mention feeling humilated by the idea of your rival seeing you so weak like this. And under his naive image, what a stubborn and tough motherfucker he is. This is why he tries so hard not to make a sound (which is hard due to him wearing football boots) as he walks to the sink and washes his face. It is not like Messi is in a position to hear him. Cris thinks it is not healthy for someone to throw up so much. And Messi vomiting during games or half times is a quite popular story. The truth is, Cris was disturbed by Marca using images of him throwing up all the time. Yeah, they are not friends but that was cruel.

He wipes his face with a paper towel and throws it in trash bin. Finally the door of the cubicle opens and Messi comes in view, barely standing on his feet, leaning against the door. Cris won't hide it that he sometimes makes fun of Messi being so pale (“hey, doesn't he look like Casper the Friendly Ghost?”) but this time he looks like a corpse.

Their eyes meet through the mirror and Messi's expression changes. He only noticed Cristiano being in the same room with him now. It is too late of course but his Argentinian pride takes over and Messi pretends like nothing happened, walking toward him slowly but steadily. He chooses the sink which is far away from Cristiano and washes his face. Cris still standing on the same spot, watching him through the mirror. Messi acts like he is not aware of Cristiano's eyes on him, walking toward the door.

Cris knows he should not say anything. It is not his problem. Messi is an adult and most importantly, his rival. But Cris couldn't stop himself once again.

“You should stop doing this to yourself.” Messi's hand freezes on the dorknob. They stay silent for a second. Finally Messi begins to speak in a soft voice.

“I do not understand what you are talking about.” Cris lets it go and rolls his eyes before turning to him.

“I am here for, like, 5 minutes, you know. Do you think I didn't realize? It's not like, it's a big secret. What, it is really unnecassary to come here only to hide it from your teammates. It is not like they do not know. Hell, whole world knows.” Messi grabs dorknob thightly. But he does not answer. So Cris continues. “You are hurting yourself.” Finally Messi turns to him. They look into each other's eyes. Cris expects him to be angry but he only looks tired. Almost sad.

“I am fine.” Cris wants to laugh but that would be rude. He points at the mirror.

“Wanna look at yourself? Because that is bullshit.” His face, just like his voice, softens suddenly. “Do you know how many players die on the pitch? This is not a joke. Or a game.” Messi eyes him. And this is when Cris realizes how deep his eyes are.

“Why do you care?” Messi asks suddenly and Cris hesitates before answering. Asking himself the same question.

“I do not.” Messi opens the door.

“Good. Because it's none of your business.” Then he's gone and Cris standing alone in the bathroom.

 

 

Cris watches second half from the bench. He already changed his outfit, looking bored as his eyes follow the game. His eyes stay on the number '10'. Face covered with determination, showing no weaknesses. But Cris sees him blinking more than necessary and trying to focus (and probably having a hard time to do so). Cris almost rolls his eyes but he is aware of cameras pointed at him and that would be hard to explain later.

It is not like he cares about that little annoying Argentinian. Cris already has enough on his plate. He has no time to worry about others. But still the scene he witnessed in the bathroom upsets him. As he said to Messi, everyone knows that, Cris does, too. Marca wrote about it a lot lately, publishing photos of Messi throwing up and makes sure everybody knows Messi's 'problem'. But seeing it was different than reading.

Messi comes out at 75th minute. Cris' eyes never leave him. He walks toward the bench slowly but does not stay there. He whispers something to Martino and heads to tunnels. Cris turns his eyes to the pitch. Like Messi said, it's none of his business.

 

 

Cris has so many reasons to be angry. And losing Málaga away a week before El Clásico probably comes first. Actually match was not as bas as they wrote. Until 80th minute, both team scored one goal each. Bale assisted Benzema's tap-in and Juanmi scored a screamer against Casillas. Cris would think it is impressive if it was not against his team. Sergio complains about Horta dribbling past him and says that he was distracted when ref blows his whistle. First half ends. Both teams walk to the tunnels. Rafa gives a short pep talk as Cris drinks a bottle of water, clearly annoyed. Teams come to the pitch again after 15 minutes of break. Cris still misses Ancelotti. Carlo was a great coach and even a better person and he helped Cris to fulfil his potential. The last time he talked to Carlo, he noticed how tired he looked. Apart from his health problems, Perez breathing down his neck whole season was not easy for him. Cris hated it. And he is feeling tired too. Maybe that is why he missed two open goal chances. Karim asks him if he is sick and Cris shakes his head. He is fine, he really is. It is just.. it seems like today is his day off, that's all. Finally Castillejo scores the winner. He fools Casillas and wins the match for his team. This is exactly what Cris was supposed to do. But he feels so tired, sad and angry that he does not even hear any of the things that fans chant. He bows his head and walks to the tunnels.

“You all have to pull yourself together.” Benitez says in the bus. “We are playing Barcelona next week and if you play like this against them, God show mercy on us.”

None of them says anything. There is no need to. Message is clear. 

 

 

Real Madrid are lucky to get one more week of rest. Barcelona will be playing against Bayer Leverkusen away on Wednesday and 3 days later they will face Real Madrid (Madrid already played their 3rd group match against Chelsea). Bayer Leverkusen still remember the last time they faced Barça but everyone knows Germans never give up until the last minute of the game.

Real Madrid, of course, does not relax and keeps training hard. Benitez talks to them regularly. Not only to encourage them but as the new coach he wants to build a good relationship between him and his players. Most people don't pay attention to it but the chemistry between their coach and players is very important for the season and team success. Rondos are fun but everybody takes their job seriously. Here, at their home, losing even two points will cost them a lot. First half of the season is never easy and even though there is a long way to go, a win means so much to the players. They will all go out there to win this match.  

 

 

Not that he cares or wonders but Cris has nothing else to do so he decides to watch Barcelona's match. The first half already ended and the second half started 3 minutes ago. He knows Barcelona performance tonight will mean nothing for their match. This is not why he is watching. Real and Barça are just like wild horses. One day they can beat the best clubs in Europe five nil and next day they could lose to a Segunda División B team. Plus Cris knows that Barcelona players want to win this match as much as Madridistas. If Barcelona wins, they will be leaders by goal difference.

Cris watches Neymar sending ball over the post, to the fans, wasting an amazing pass from Messi. BayArena is full. Schmidt yells at his players from the sideline, telling them not let Messi move freely. But Cris played against him enough to know that even if you put 11 players around him, he will find a way to create chances and assist. He is probably the best passer he's ever seen, Cris must admit.

Little culés and their tiki taka.

5 minutes later Iniesta passes to Messi who nutmegs Spahic and sends ball to Leno's other side, right corner. Ball touches the tips of Leno's glove but it does not enough to stop it. Iniesta runs to Messi, jumping on him. Messi wraps his arm around him. Suárez and Neymar catch up with them and soon Piqué jumps top of them as director shows the goal again in slow motion. Well, that is the end. Cris lazily reaches for remote to change the channel. There is nothing interesting, Barça trashing Leverkusen away and home. But before he changes the channel, he notices something. Leverkusen players go to middle of the pitch to start the game but Messi still standing in the penalty area, Cris' curiosity takes over him. He places remote on his couch and watches the game. His last meeting with Messi, in Atatürk Olympic Stadium, was already forgetten until then but Cris suddenly remembers how he pressed his knees to cold tiles, leaning closer to the door for some support. His eyes glued to the screen, never leaving number 10.

The rest of the match goes as expected. It is almost boring. Barcelonistas pass ball to each other, Neymar misses another chance but his performance is not as bad as Cristiano makes it. Messi stays quiet for the rest of the game. He avoids any attention, playing one touch passes and barely runs. Under normal circumstances, Cris would call him lazy and maybe make fun of his lack of interest but a part of him can guess the reason behind.

After the final whistle, players shake hands, congrulate each other and talk to refs before heading to tunnels. Messi is one of the first ones to leave the pitch. Cris turns off the TV. It does not interest him anymore.

 

 

3 days go faster than expected and Cris finds himself standing on the fine grass of Santiago Bernabéu, waiting for Culés to shake his hand. Neymar and Marcelo hug quickly, making some jokes between them. Cris greets them with a serious but not friendly expression. Finally Messi extends his hand to Cris and when their skins meet, Cris notices how cold his hands are. Messi shakes his hand with a friendly gesture and Cris couldn't control himself.. again.

“You are paler than ever.” Cris does not know why he said that. They barely talk to each other. Apart from award ceremonies, friendlies, they never talk during Los Clásicos. Cris likes to keep his communication minimum with his opponents. Because here, on the pitch, especially during an El Clásico where whole world watches them, they are not rivals who compete each other for an award or a record. They are just passionate players who want to win another game for their team, another 3 points which will take them closer to the title. And Cris does not know why he felt the need to make a comment like this one but it was true. While they were shaking hands, Leo's looked ridiculously pale between his fingers.  

Messi does not say anything. He only stares at Cristiano. And somehow Cristiano feels uncomfortable under his stare. There is something disturbing and different in his eyes which makes Cristiano feel.. awkward, like they are too deep and Cristiano—

He does not know.

Cristiano realizes there is no one left from Barça side that is waiting for him and he goes to refs, shaking their hands. Without actually paying any attention to them, he goes to his spot and waiting for match to start.

 

 

Cristiano stays still for a second, watching his header hits the post with a loud bang. Fortunately Sergio is not as shocked as him and he acts before anyone else, kicking the ball hard, but ball goes straight to Bravo's open arms. Sergio mumbles something angrily and goes to back to his position which he left for corner kick. Cris shakes his head annoyedly as he gets out of the penalty box. There has been no goal other than Suarez's which came at 17th minute. And Cris finds it hard to focus. He actually found a space between Barça's defence and took a perfect shot, onlt the angle was not right. Bale must realize his expression because he pats Cristiano's shoulder softly even though he does not look so motivated and happy himself either. On the other half of the pitch, Neymar runs toward Sergio with ball at his feet. Sergio goes for a sliding tackle but Neymar sending ball over him and it falls right in front of Messi's left foot. Messi dribbles past Marcelo and turns his back to the goal, giving a perfect back heel pass to Rakitić. Rakitić gets the ball before Sergio as Cristiano runs toward their goal to help their defence. Maybe they can get a chance to counterattack. With this thought, he stays between midfield and their penalty box. Barcelona defence always play high, a bounced ball and Cris can score a perfect equalizer.

But that position never comes.

Rakitić takes a powerful shot, Casillas easily punches it and sends ball over the goal posts. Rakitić gets a ball from ball boy quickly and runs toward the right corner. Cris wonders where all this energy comes from. Cris keeps waiting for ball to end up at his feet, his eyes running around the pitch as he notices Messi standing away from the group inside the penalty box. It is understandable. Messi is not the tallest guy on the pitch. He very rarely makes a difference during corner kicks (he scores a lot of headers lately and Cris remembers Messi winning a header over him during a friendly but that does not change the fact that he can't fight with Sergio or Bale for a header all the time). So it is only logical for him to stay outside, waiting for ball and control the game (it becomes his job to be a playmaker/midfielder since Xavi left and even before that). Thus he is no one's priority, standing there in his large jersey, like forgetten.

Cris tries to focus on Rakitić and the corner kick he will be taking but Messi, who is standing far away from him and rubbing his hands together despite its not being so cold in Spain tonight, keeps distracting him. Cris shakes his head angrily, not knowing who he is so mad at, himself or Messi? Rakitić takes a poor corner kick, balls bounce twice without anyone touching it and leaves the pitch slowly. Relieved, Cris turns his back to their goal, walking toward the other half as Marcelo waiting for ballboy to throw him a ball, and he sees Luis Enrique waving his hand in the air. First Cris raises an eyebrow uninterestedly. Then he realizes who Luis Enrique is waving at. Messi is standing right behind him, shaking his head at Enrique and the coach hesitates before nodding. Cris wonders why this little gesture caught his attention. He only wakes up when Bale sends ball to his feet and Cris runs past Dani Alves on his way to goal and come face to face with Mascherano. Bravo looks alarmed as Cris passes to Bale. Gareth does not hesitate or wait, he takes the shot. Normally, ball would go to the left, not even touching goal post. But ball hits Piqué's knee and changes direction, goes directly into Bravo's net. Bravo jumps to catch it but even before that Cris knows it is too late. Bravo punches the grass angrily. Piqué runs his hand through his hair annoyedly, cursing his bad luck, Mascherano telling him to stay calm and that everything is under control. Cris runs between them, hugging Bale and his teammates, celebrating the goal.

 

 

There is no lopsided victory.

 

Match ends 2-1. Benzema scores Madrid's other goal. Cris had a good game and assisted Benzema's goal. But after one week of rest, Cris still feels tired. It is not his body but his mind. Maybe after working all these years to do his best, to get better and answer high expectation, tiredness became permanent. When Sergio half jokingly tells him that he is getting older, Cris tries to hide his worries and annoyance, closes his locker before being the first person to leave the dressing room. He doesn't feel like talking about their game and his performance, only to give media something to write about. He's going to the tunnel which directly opens to the parking area when he notices Messi. He is sitting on the steps, tying his shoe laces. His hair is still wet, water droplets falling to the ground. Cris can't see his face but he is aware that Messi didn't notice him. So he hesitates, not sure if he should walk pass him quickly without saying anything. But Messi lifts his head like he heard his thoughts and his dark brown eyes focus on him.

“Hi.” He says softly. Cris coughs awkwardly before answering.

“Hey.” Cris walks toward him with small but determined steps, sitting next to him. His curiosity takes over him again. “What are you doing here?” Messi stretches out his legs, looking at his masterpiece.

“I needed some time alone.” He lifts his head like he remembers something. “Sorry, I should not be here?”

Cris shakes his head, waving his hand in the air.

“No, no. I am just surprised to see you here. I thought you would be with your friends.” He makes a joke to breat awkwardness. “You should not wander around alone in enemy territory.”

“It is not like you would try to kill me.” Messi answers softly. “Well, maybe Pepe or Ramos but..” Cris laughs loudly.

“Sergio does not hate you, you know. He just.. well, let's just say he is not your biggest fan.” Messi makes a thoughtful humming noise and nods.

“Because of those 4 goals in Sevilla match?” Cris gets the joke somehow, read it somewhere before and shakes his head while still laughing.

“Look at you. I would not expect anything like this from you.” Messi smiles tiredly.

“I don't even remember that match.” This time silence does not upset Cristiano. But Messi's cell phone breaks the silence anyways. Messi finds his cell phone in his backpack and checks the ID before answering.

“Yes, Gerard?” Cris gets on his feet to leave. He waves at Leo for the last time but Messi's expression changes quickly and Cris stays with him, to know if something bad happened. “But why would you- I mean, no I am still at stadium.” Messi rubs his face annoyedly and runs a hand through his hair and Cris thinks he looks older and tired. “Okay, I can take care of myself. No, no. Don't worry about me. Bye.” Messi shows his phone down his pocket angrily and takes his backpack before standing up. He seems like he just noticed Cris standing there with him. He hesitates.

“Can I ask you a favor?” He says finally. Cris shrugs.

“Sure.” Messi runs his hand through his hair nervously. Cris notices he is doing it a lot.

“Can you call a cab for me?” Cris raises an eyebrow and Messi feels the need to explain. “Apparently my team thought that I was nervous and left before them so they did not wait for me and.. yeah, here I am. Alone.” Cris speaks without thinking.

“Come on. I will give you a ride.” Messi hesitates again.

“You must be really tired already. I can't ask this from you.” Cris smirks at him.

“Come on. It is no problem. And what if driver is a diehard Madridista? I can't leave you alone with him, can I?” Messi smiles at him gratefully.

And somehow Cris feels that his headache and tiredness go away while talking to Messi.

 

 

To break the silence in the car, Cris turns on the radio and stealing a glance at the young man sitting next to him every now and then. A slow Portuguese song playing in the background. Messi is focused on his hands on his lap, his mind is obviously somewhere else. He looks young. So young and tired, which reminds him of himself (expect the 'young' part because he feels like an old man nowadays).

Cris turns his eyes to the road.

“So,” he says finally, “how have you been?” Messi lifts his head, finally looking at Cris. He presses his forehead against the window.

“Good. What about you?” Cris nods before taking his eyes off the road.

“Good.” Silence surrounds them like a fog. Messi leans back against his seat and closes his eyes.

“Don't throw up in my car.” Cris says. Messi looks at him, eyes half closed.

“I can't promise.” But Cris sees him smiling from corner of his eyes and knows that he is joking. He clears his throat and finally asks what he was planning to ask for weeks.

“Have you seen a doctor? I mean, you know, for your 'problem'.” Messi makes a humming noise and looks through the window next to him, eyeing the city, not looking at Cristiano.

“Yeah.” He says in the end.

“And?” Cris does not want to push him. Messi doesn't need to tell him anything but his curiosity, as usual, takes over him.

“Nothing. They said everything is perfectly fine. All those tests came out negative.” Cris frowns. It is obvious to him that Leo has a health issue.

“Maybe you should see another doctor. I can suggest you-”

“I did. I saw 5 different doctors and they all said the same thing.” Messi finally turns his head and when he looks at Cris he has 'that' smile on his face. The one he only shows to his friend and people he feels comfortable with. It is warm and honest. “Don't worry. I am fine.” However Cris is unconvinced. He wants to tell Messi he is not worried because it is none of his business but a) that would be rude b) that would be a lie. For an unknown reason, he is worried about him.

While Cris is driving, Messi suddenly places his hand on Cris' arm. His touch is soft anf warm and Cris feels awkward. He tries to keep his eyes on the road, looking at Messi confusedly, catching a sight of him out of the corner of his eye.

“You can drop me off here.” Cris frowns at him.

“But we are not there yet.”

“I can walk from here. It's better if we're not even seen together after El Clásico.” Well, he's got a point. But Cris still feels bad about leaving him here as he pulls over. Messi unbuckles his seat belt and opens his door when Cris instinctively reaches forward and stops him. Messi looks at him confusedly but patiently, waiting for Cris to say something.

“You will.. play against Getafe in 2 weeks, right?”

“Three.” Messi corrects him. His voice is soft as usual but Cris can read his face (for the first time because normally Messi always has that poker face) and he looks confused. Obviously wondering what Cris is trying to say.

“Well. Let's meet then.” Messi raises his eyebrows. “I will show you something.” Cris knows his offer is unexpected. They have never met before. Not willingly.

“Okay.” Messi answers after a second of silence. Cris realizes his hand still gripping Messi's arm and quickly places it on steering wheel. Messi opens the door widely but before stepping outside he turns to Cris and smiles. “See you then.”

Cris watches him pulls his hood over his head, moving forward with quick steps.

“See you.”

 

 

Later Cris asked himself why he did this, why he asked Messi of all people, why did he want to meet him? Even when they were sitting side by side in Santiago Bernabéu's tunnel, they were far, far away. The distance between them felt like the ocean seperating Argentina and Portugal. But they are more alike than Cris thinks. First of all, they both had to go through a lot to reach where they are today. And above all, they know what it feels like to suffer. Maybe hiding their weaknesses is not what they need unlike they think. Maybe all they need is someone to rely on. But two stubborn goats won't easily let the other one pass.  

 

 

 After El Clásico Madrid play Real Betis home and Levante away. They take 3 points from each game while Barcelona beats Espanyol and Málaga at their home. Barça travel Madrid to play against Getafe and Real Madrid play Rayo at home in the same week. Cris wonders if Messi will keep his promise or not. Maybe Messi already forgotten the promise he made. Cris could not judge him. Because, like Cris always reminds himself, they are not friends and Messi does not owe him anything. It was not even serious. Maybe Messi thought Cris said it just for fun and that he was not serious. Cris would not mind. It is not like he wants to meet him so bad.

But his thoughts soon proven wrong by a message.

_“Where should I meet you?”_

 

 

 Cris strums his fingers on the steering wheel as he watches rain heavily pouring down on the window of his car. Rain has always been a comforting weather condition. Especially during nights like this one. People walking quickly on the streets, trying go from one place to another. Weather is not cold and their short sleeve t-shirts soaking wet, clinging their bodies. If he could, Cris would stop the time and live this moment forever. Some moments are so beautiful that it makes you sad for no reason. Becuase how many times you will witness it again? Even if so, in this life we are living in, will you get a chance to take your time and appreciate its beauty? It is not midlife crisis as Sergio says (well he is most probably joking because Cris is still young to have a midlife crisis). It is just.. the things he has now was out of his imagination when he was a kid. And he can't help it but feel like one day he will wake up and all these things will be gone. So he wants to cling to everything he has. And it's not necessarily have to be material.

Messi barely opens the door and gets in, Cris slightly turns his head to his side. Messi closes the door and pulls off his hood, running a hand through his hair. Cris waits for him to look at him. Messi finally turns to him, smiling shyly.

“Hey.” Cris wants to smile but he can't and his expression remains same.

“Hi.” Messi leans against his seat like he didn't notice Cristiano's lack of enthusiasm.

“So where are we going? Because I don't have so much time. I have to be at hotel before 10 so that I can talk to Lucho about the match.” Cris shakes his head slowly and turns on the engine.

“Okay.” Messi looks at him and frowns.

“Are you okay? You said you want to show me something but if you are not in the mood, that's totally fine.” Cris stares straight ahead of him, shaking his head.

“No, it's okay. It is nothing. I still want to show you something.” After eyeing him carefully for a second, Messi turns his attention to the view outside the window.

“Okay.”

 

 

Messi raises his eyebrows, smirking and Cristiano wonders why he did this, why did he take Messi of all people here? The truth is, when Cristiano told Messi they should meet again because he wants to show him something, he had no idea what to show him. He only wanted to see him again. And the idea of feeling a need to see his this little guy annoys him so much, it is embarrassing.

“You seriously brought me here? Wow, what every guy want to see.” Messi says without looking at him. Cris rolls his eyes, finding the keys in his pocket.

“Are you coming in?” He asks, walking without waiting for Messi. Messi mumbles something that Cris cannot hear as he tries to find the keyhole in the darkness. Messi walks until he is standing behind him, eyes wandering around the small backyard. This house is small, too small to believe that it belongs to Cristiano Ronaldo who wears expensive clothes, has the best cars and biggest houses. And it is out of the city, they didn't even see another human being on their way to here.

“You know that Crackòvia episode where you have a dart board with my photo on it, I always thought they were exaggerating but now thinking...” Messi says half jokingly and looks around one more time before stepping inside after Cristiano.

“Do you seriously watch that thing?” Cris asks flatly. Messi shrugs.

“I do not. Gerard does. He finds it so funny.” Cristiano makes a face.

“It is not even funny.”

“Hmm.. I don't know the one where you were making out with yourself was kinda funny.” Cristiano looks at Messi's smug face and whispers.

“Jerk.”

“Why don't you switch on the lights so I can make sure that you didn't bring me here to murder?”

“Umm..” Messi looks over his shoulder but it's too dark to see Cristiano's stressed face.

“What?”

“I didn't come here for months and I guess.. well, I forgot to pay electric bill.” There is a silence until Messi starts laughing loudly.

“Oh my God, this is amazing!”

“But, hey, we have ice tea and biscuits so..” Cristiano runs a hand through his hair. That was a bad idea. He should not come here after all these months, especially not with Messi -maybe Cris should start to call him Leo or at least Lionel (but that sounds weird to him) since they are spending a night in a small house together, all alone-.

“Sounds great.” Messi says, sounding happy. And Cristiano wants to laugh. What was he expecting from Lionel Messi, the guy who feels awkward in crowded places and still uncomfortable with fame despite being the centre of attraction for years?

 

 

Yeah, maybe they don't have electricity but they have the candles Cristiano found in the kitchen, ice tea, some biscuits and each other's company which is strangely comforting. Cris can barely see Leo's face, only below his lips. They don't speak but this time silence is comforting and Cristiano does not mind. They are half sitting on the living room floor, eating silently.

“Did you think about what I said?” Cristiano finally asks, taking a sip of his ice tea.

“What?” Leo asks.

“About doctor. I know a great one and-” Leo interupts him.

“I told you, I am fine. I don't need it.” Cristiano rolls his eyes, Leo can't see his face anyways.

“You are so stubborn.” He says annoyedly.

“But why do you even care?” Leo asks calmly. “I don't understand.” Cristiano stares at the candle light, he wondered the same thing for a long time. Since Istanbul, he kept asking himself the same thing but he couldn't find the answer.. until now.

“Maybe I need you more than anyone else. Even more than my teammates.” Leo does not answer right away and Cristiano can't blame him. He is probably surprised by Cristiano's honesty. When he speaks again, his voice is softy and sweet as dulce de leche.

“This is not the first time I am dealing with.. health problems. I can take care of myself.” And this is the response Cristiano was waiting for. Because this is what he was used to tell himself. But now that he knows Messi, truly knows him, he is not ashamed of admitting that maybe he was wrong.

“And why do we always have to take care of ourselves? Sometimes it is okay to let others do it for us, don't you think?”

“Like you would.”

“I wish I could.” Cristiano answers honestly. Tonight, there is no room for excuses and lies. He wants to be honest with Messi, about everything. Even with things he cannot mention to his closest teammates. Because maybe Cristiano does not know Messi that well and maybe he should not trust him with his feelings but he does not care. He wants to talk to someone who can truly understand him and Messi is that person. Weird world.

“I don't get it, Cristiano.” Leo says suddenly. “You never talked to me before. I mean, yeah, we talked but not like this. And you are being nice to me, inviting me to a house in the middle of nowhere, dropping me off at my hotel.. I mean if I say what I think about this, I would be in jail.” He smiles softly when Cris rolls his eyes annoyedly and tries to hide his uneasiness.

“This again? Pff, you know I was joking.” Leo gets serious.

“I know. What I am trying to say is.. why all of a sudden..” He takes a deep breathe before continuing. “Why did you bring me here? Your secret 'cave' of all places?”

“Maybe I wanted to show what world could be without fans and media breathing down your neck all the time.” Leo smiles again but it fades quickly.

“That's nice. But it is just an illusion. At the end of the day, we should go back to the real world.”

“Maybe I don't want to go back.” Leo raises an eyebrow.

“This is nothing like you. This is not the Cristiano I know. What is going on?” Cristiano looks at his hands angrily. He was so wrong, fuck, he was so wrong about everything.

“You are too nice for your own good, Leo. Don't let media treat the way they do.” Leo looks at him confusedly when Cristiano gets on his feet quickly.

“Come on, you said you should be at hotel before 10.” He doesn't give Leo a chance to answer.

 

 

Cristiano parks the car in front of Leo's hotel and this time Messi does not argue. They sit there, Cris not saying anything, Leo not making any move to leave. Finally Messi opens the car door, looking at Cris shyly.

“See you at Zürich?” It sounds like a question. Cristiano nods without looking at him.

“Yeah” is all Cris says and Leo leaves, feeling defeated somehow. But not dissappointed and depressed like Cris does feel.

 

 

When Leo Messi claims his 5th Ballon de Oro in Zürich, everyone applauds the legend. And it is a good day because after a great season and a year, some of his teammates are there with him and they are all celebrating their friend's success. So, yeah, people rewarding them for their hardwork should make him happy. But he can't get rid of this heavy feeling in his chest, eyes glued to the empty spot next to his chair. He makes a small speech, thanking his Barça and Argentina teammates and his family for supporting him. Piqué hugs him after that, in the backroom. Neymar smiling wider than him, like he won the award, hands all over Leo. And he is happy but he wonders if he did something wrong or said something rude. Maybe he should ask because Leo always hated to feel like a coward, running away from his problems. But another part of him is extremely stubborn and he says to himself that he doesn't owe Cristiano anything, it is not like Cristiano wants to be his friend, does he?

Leo dodges every questions about Ronaldo with flat answers, just smiling like he always do. And somewhere in Madrid, Cristiano watches the TV with a blank expression, eyes never leaving the screen like he wants to memorize the smile he's seen so many times before. He is not sure when he will see it in person again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1-) I think Leverkusen won't be in Pot 2 but hey, as I said I wrote this in January and barely changed any things so..
> 
> 2-) And when Messi and Ramos (who was still at Sevilla) were playing for Juvenile sides, Messi scored 4 goals from right (where Ramos was playing back then) in 8 minutes. 
> 
> I don't ship them, by the way. And maybe it's time to accept that I cannot write them, I don't know, it feels weird. I tried to write for some friends but my Crismessi/Messiano (or whatever you call them) fics are never good. And my English is so bad, I know. Sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, that was written in January (well, half of it). This is why I am able to update so soon. But I don't when will the chapter 3 come, please be patient with me. I have finals 'till June 25 :( 
> 
> By the way, I am thinking of making this longer than 3 chapters but I don't know, we will see.. what do you think?

Cris celebrates his birthday. After everything that happened and said last year, he keeps it quiet this time. Mendes makes sure that no images, no videos leaking. And Cris feels numb. He is another year older. But he is honest enough to admit that this sadness and fear inside him has nothing to do with his future anxiety or the nightmare of living in a world without football.

In the end, how can you lose something that you have never had?

 

 

Cris is proud to say that he got Messi out of his head for a while. It is not like he had time to think about little Argentinian. Until his birthday, Real Madrid were 6 points above Barcelona which was frustrating for many Culés because a team like Real Madrid wouldn't easily lose 6 points. But Madrid's poor league results since Mourinho era (which continued during Ancelotti's glory days) continues with Rafa Benitez. And Madrid lose Atléti at home then Real Sociedad away until March. And it is too much for Cristiano to handle lately. He feels tired of criticisms, people breathing down his neck. So he puts his pride aside and do what he wants to do. Even if it will embarrass him in the morning.

 

 

Leo has no problem staying in hotels. Leo can sleep whenever he wants which surprises everyone who shares a room with him during away games. It does not matter who his roommate is (okay, except Kun because he always forgets to turn off the TV). Another thing you need to know about Leo is that despite being the most loved footballer around the world (even in the US where majority doesn't care about the beautiful game) he rarely watches it. He knows he is ruining the cliché by not watching the thing he loves most but the truth is, most footballers only enjoy playing. That is why he fell asleep while lying on his bed, playing with his phone instead of watching Real Madrid's (or another team's) match. His roommate, Neymar, is probably somewhere in the hotel alongside with Dani and doing stupid things that Leo doesn't want to know. It's only 22:00 though, Neymar has every right to call Leo an old man. Leo lives like one simetimes. If it was not on the bed, next to his pillow, he would never notice his phone vibrating. He opens one of his eyes, groaning loudly and lifts his head from his pillow, looking around to remember where he is. There is a light on the bedside, he can see his reflection on the glass door of their small balcony. Leo realizes it's his phone who woke him up right in the middle of his nap and answers it without checking the ID, burying his face in the cool fabric of his pillow.

“Yes?” He opens his eyes again when the person who called him doesn't answer and looks at the screen of his phone. Oh. “Cristiano?” Cris clears his throat before answering.

“Hola Lionel.” Leo gives him a minute to continue but Cristiano forgets everything he's planned to tell Leo. He has so many things to say that he doesn't even know where to start. “I-”

Cristiano swallows. He didn't know until then, maybe denied or pushed the thought somewhere deep in his mind but he wants to tell Leo so many things. He hates for being suddenly emotional. He thinks about things he wants to say, maybe things that he will never be able to tell Leo. And that's why he feels trapped, like choking. Maybe this is why he is always tired.

“I thought you were not talking to me.” Leo asks, can't wait any longer. He is frustrated too. He doesn't get him. He doesn't understand why Cristiano is acting like this. One minte he is calling Leo, making jokes or maybe inviting Leo to his secret places but next minute he is putting distance between them, not even looking him in the eyes.

“You are not doing this easier for me.” Cris rolls his eyes. Leo sighs before answering.

“Why did you call me Cristiano?” He has no intention of arguing with Cristiano again.

“ _Eu queria ouvir a sua voz.”_ He whispers finally.

“Oh.” Cristiano hears Leo hesitating before speaking. Not sure what to say. It makes two of them. “Too bad Dinho, Deco and Dani only taught me cursing words.” He jokes. “Maybe I should ask Neymar to teach me, he is nicer.”

“I could teach you.” Cris says softly. _I could protect you. I could care for you. I could give you everything that they couldn't. I would love you more than they could ever._

“Then you wouldn't be able to tell me things you want to say, would you?” Cristiano sighs becuase that is true. His native language gives him freedom while talking to Leo.

“Can't I, Leo? Would you listen to me if I did?” Cris says challengingly.

“I am listening you now, right?” says Leo calmly.

“Exactly. You always listen but never speak. You always take but never give. And I am frustrated.” Leo is taken back by his words. Cristiano doesn't sound angry but his words are harsh.

“People talk a lot but not saying much. I talk when I have something to say.” He defends himself.

“Then I have no reason to tell you, not if I can't get anything from you. You obviously don't have anything to tell me.” Leo wants to ask him what he wants to hear, what should Leo say because Leo seriously doesn't know anymore.

“Do whatever you want, Cris. When you did not?” _With you,_ Cris thinks, _I can't do many things I would like to do with you._

“You know what Lionel, I will just do that.” Leo lazily buries his head in his pillow and closes his eyes, still listening to Cristiano.

“Hmm, and what is that?” Cristiano pressing the phone closer to his mouth.

“This.” He says and angrily presses the end call button. Leo waits and when he realizes line went dead, he looks at his phone surprisedly and shakes his head, mumblining “dissociative identity disorder” and buries his head in his pillow again.

 

 

Then it became thing, Cris talking Portuguese to Leo. Becuase Cristiano can't keep it in anymore and he needs to get it out of his chest. So he says something in Portuguese, Leo replies with a random sentence.

 

 

When Cristiano goes to training next day, of course his captain, Iker, notices his good mood. It has been a while since Iker saw him like this, smiling and joking around with youger playes such as James and Jesé. Of course Iker does not say anything in front of their teammates but when team is getting ready for a rondo, Iker approaches him, patting Cris in the back.

“It is good to see you like this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Cristiano asks, watching his teammates running around.

“You look happy.” Cristiano thinks before answering. Is he happy? Yeah, maybe. He feels better today for no particular reason.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Cris smirks at him. “I am rich, I am handsome, I am successful, I am-”

“Okay, okay, we got it.” Iker says, rolling his eyes jokingly and Cris laughs sincerely. It has been so long since they actually take their time and joked about meaningless stuff. Now that they tasted the victory once with Ancelotti, high expectations poured down on them and all they can think is the tactics which will win them the next game, take them closer to the title.

“He probably got laid.” Sergio comes out of nowhere and wraps his arm around his captain's shoulder. Iker pushes his hand away jokingly but Sergio tightens his grip.

“I have no time, I am busy with trying to score more goals than you concede.” He says, still smirking. Sergio and Iker look at each other before protesting. Iker hits his shoulder with his glove while Sergio is kicking him in the ass.

“You ungrateful fucker, I am the one who scored the most important goal of the season against Atlético in 2014.”

“It is because you have a big head.” Cris says calmly, biting back laughter.

“Can you believe this guy?” Sergio says to Iker.

“Don't go so hard on him, Sese. Maybe he is just in love.” Iker says. Maybe he is just joking but Cristiano stays still, smile freezing on his face. “Oh my God..” Iker whispers. “Seriously, Cris?”

“Who is the lucky person?” Sergio asks curiously. Now both Iker and Sergio wrap their arms around Cristiano's shoulders, leaning closer to him like they don't want anyone else to hear. Like they are the only one allowed to know his secret. But Cristiano pushes their hands away.

“Stop being fools. Of course I am not.”

“Who is in love?” Karim asks, scaring the shit out of the trio who didn't notice him approaching them, Isco and Bale coming behind him.

“No one is.” Cristiano says annoyedly.

“Why are you hiding your love, Cris?” Isco asks, smiling sweetly. “Or is she a hooker or maybe underage?”

“Are you her sugardady, Cris?” Karim asks, smirking.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with you all?” Cristiano rolls his eyes.

“Or maybe..” says Sergio, his left hand caressing his chin. He looks deep in thoughts. “It is a forbidden love.”

“Sergio, are you reading romance novels?” Karim says, raising an eyebrow.

“But it makes sense!” Sergio protests. “What if her family are Barça fans or, I don't know, Atlético fans?!”

“That is one of the dumbest things I have ever heard, Sese and I am hanging out with you a lot.” Cris says. Luckily, no one notices Cris' discomfort. He buries his hands in his Real Madrid jacket, not meeting with his friends' eyes and thanking God for letting his friend forget about him. But Isco is, as always, so attentive.

“Cris?” He asks and heads turn toward him. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God, see, I am right!” Sergio says but Iker elbows him angrily, telling him to shut up.

“Yeah.” Cris says, answering to Isco, looking at the ball at his feet and juggling it.

“Oh, there is one thing that the great Cristiano Ronaldo can't have.” Karim says half joking, half serious. “Since when?”

“I have a bad habit of wanting things out of my reach, that doesn't have a price tag. ” Cristiano says carefully, his good mood goes a bit sour. “Things that I can't have.”

 

 

This time, it is Leo who calls him. Cris is lying on his stomach in the living room, watching TV when his phone rings. He checks the ID, not sure if he wants to answer the phone. Messi is always cold, distant and dull so Cris does not know if he is ready to talk to him again. But a part of him wants to hear his voice and it's the one who controls Cris' heart. So he answers.

“Yeah?” He says rudely. He is in no mood to be polite.

“Umm.. hey. How are you?” Messi says quietly and Cris rolls his eyes. Messi is not insecure or shy as people think. Cris knows this but he is still so weird and reserved and Cristiano can't believe that he finds Messi's awkwardness attractive.

“Are you calling me for this? To ask how I am?” Cris is surprised by his own bitterness. Canal+ then decides to show the highlights of Barça's latest game agaist Athletic Club. Messi dribbling past Laporte and passing ball to Neymar who scores a chip.

“Yeah.” Messi answers softly. “I didn't know it would upset you. I am sorry. Bye.”

“Don't.” Cris says quickly, straightening up in rush. “I am sorry, I was being rude. Thanks for calling. I am fine, you?”

“I am good.”

“Still can't keep any food down?” Cris asks jokingly but he actually wonders. Messi sighs. He is obviously tired of people asking him about it.

“I am seriously fine. It doesn't happen that much anyways.”

“Okay.” Because Cris doesn't know what to say anymore. Leo never listens him (or anyone else) when it comes to his health and talking about it will only annoy him more. And Cris doesn't want it, he is tired of arguing.

“That is all. I only-” Messi stops for a second. Cris wonders what he was going to say. But he doesn't ask. “I don't want to be like this, you know. I don't want to argue with you or anything. I am sorry if I said something wrong last time.” Cris shakes his head even though Messi cannot see him.

“You did not. I was upset because of Real Sociedad.” Cris looks at the TV, Messi smiling and jumping on Iniesta who scored Barça's third goal. Cris missed the second one. _“Foi tão bom ouvir a tua voz hoje.”_

“Goodnight, Cristiano.”

“Goodnight, Lionel.”

 

 

Cris does not follow Leo on Instagram because that would be raised many questions (not that Cris cares but Mendes does). But he checks his account now and then. And he sees a photo of him in Argentina with Pablo Aimar. Both smiling at the camera, arms around each other. Cris heard it before, that Messi adores and loves Aimar so much. Pablo was another 'heir of Maradona' who failed to prove his worthy for the title (but it was thrown around carelessly, pressing down on players' shoulders until Messi came out and claimed it).

And he looks at Aimar like the way whole world looks at him.

Cris wonders if he will ever look at him without an expression painted with professionalism.

 

 

Then Barcelona beats Valencia which means Real Madrid will face Barça in the quarter finals of Copa del Rey.

 

 

Cris' hand goes to his phone after that. Not sure if he should call Leo. Maybe he is still with friends, celebrating their win over Valencia. But they are in the middle of the season and he knows reaching the quarter finals of Copa doesn't mean much to Real and Barça (of course Cris would never say this in front of people because that would be extremely rude and arrogant). So he thinks, _fuck it_ and calls him. Leo doesn't answer his phone and Cris pretends like he is not disappointed.

But 5 minutes later, his phone rings and Cris answers it without waiting for it to ring twice.

“Hola?”

“Sorry, I was taking a shower, I couldn't answer earlier.” Leo says.

“At this hour?” Cristiano stares at his Rolex watch, just in case. “Don't tell me you didn't take a shower after the match.”

“No, I did. But then Gerard decided to spill his drink all over me.” Leo says like he is talking about his 5 year old nephew.

“He is a pain in the ass, no?” Cris knows Gerard well and it is not only from El Classico. He also knows Gerard from the years they played together at Manchester United. He is loud, he likes pranks and he will make fun of you everytime he gets a chance (but Cris also remembers Gerard's hair back then and he has no right to joke about others).

“He is but I know him for, like, 14-15 years and he is one of my best friends.”

“So you can't be the dictator you are and kick him out of the club?” Cris chuckles as Leo makes a funny sound.

“I saw your Ancelotti tweet from last summer, you need to take some lessons on dictatorship, I see.” Now it is his turn to laugh.

“From you? Never.” He hears some strange noises from other side of the line before Messi answers.

“Your decision. I am always here if you need help.”

“Wow, Lionel. Always so helpful and friendly.” Cris says sarcastically.

“Leo.” Messi says suddenly. “Call me Leo.”

“Leo.” He repeats, loving the sound of his name on his lips. “Leo.” Cris puts his kettle on. “Did I ever tell you that you have a nice name?”

“Hmm?”

“Leo. It sounds nice.” Cris says because it is true.

“My father hates it. The only reason he named me Lionel instead of Leonel was because he didn't want people to call me Leo. Look how it backfired him.”

“Seriously?!” He makes an approving sound. _“Bem, eu gosto.”_

“You will make me learn Portuguese.” Leo says, laughing.

“I told you, I can teach you insist. Your teacher would be a fanboy probably and you will end up learning nothing.”

“I don't need a teacher, Neymar can teach me anytime.”

“I meant him by fanboy.” Leo chuckles again. He is extremely cheerful tonight, Cris notices. He doesn't know if it has anything to do with their win over Valencia. Cristiano finds a tea bag on the shelf, places it into his favorite mug.

“You would probably teach me all the swearing words and force me to speak Portuguese at Balon de Oro ceremony, only to embarrass me in front of millions.” Cris laughs loudly as kettle turns off. He starts pouring hot water into the mug.

“Stop giving me ideas!”

“Then tell me,” Leo says from the other side of the line. “What is the easist phrase that I can learn?”

Cristiano takes a sip of his tea, answering without thinking. He lets his heart take over it.

“ _Eu te amo.”_

 

 

They don't speak another 5 days after that. When Cris says the words, he knows Messi understand it. There is not much difference between “(yo) te amo” and “eu te amo”. And Cris' heart pounding in his chest, expecting Messi to react. Waiting is too long that Cristiano imagines different reactions from Leo. One includes him freaking out and another one is so cheesy that Cris doesn't even want to remember it.

But Leo doesn't say anything. He mumbles a 'okay' and then they say their goodbyes and that is it. And Cris feels sick. He feels so screwed up.

Next week Barça travel Madrid to face Real Madrid in Copa del Rey. And Cris keeps telling himself that his awkward, complicated relationship with Messi won't change anything and he won't let him distract Cris and that he will fight 'till the end. But it is not that easy because one day before the game, the only thing Cris can think is _Messi, Messi, Messi._

 

 

Cris walks onto the pitch alongside with Barça players and the refs. He doesn't feel nervous when he does, Rafa already told them to give their everything because it's Barça and winning against them is always pleasure even if it is a friendly. But Cris doesn't need anyone to tell him, he will give his everything to beat Barça, to beat Messi. So he grits his teeth, ready for the fight.

But his anger quickly disappears when he sees Messi looking so small compared to him, so young, so tired, so pale. Worry takes over him immediately and Cris hates it. He hates Messi being his soft spot. But this time, Cris makes no comment on his paleness or him looking sick. Or the feeling of his soft hand under his tanned fingers. He only focuses on the game.

 

 

When ref blows half time whistle, Cris wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. It's been tough, like every other El Clásico and even though it is just a cup game (every team wants to win one more trophy of course but compared to Liga and Champions, it is not that important), both teams are fighting like this is their last game. Because no one likes to lose against their archenemies.

 

 

Cris walks to the tunnels, head bowed down, eyes not meeting with anyone. Iker pats him in the back, he probably feels guilty for conceding an easy goal like the one Neymar scored. He could easily saved it but he trapped his own feet and watched the ball hit his net slowly. De Gea forcing his way to Real and Navas fighting for starter position was hard for him. Many would agree that the keeper should have left long time ago and that he is not at his best anymore (had statistically the worst individual season of his last year). But Cris doesn't want to talk about it. He also doesn't want to talk about his own performance because even though he scored their only goal, it's still obvious that his mind is somewhere else. Cris wipes his mouth with the hem of his shirt annoyedly and enters the locker room. He sits there, in front of his locker and drinking a bottle of water when Isco comes in with a surprised expression on his face.

“ _Oi_ , Isco, what happened?” Sergio says, standing next to Cris' locker, drinking his own bottle of water when Rafa enters the room.

“Nothing. It is just.. I just saw Messi and..” Cris lifts his head, suddenly interested in the conversation. But he doesn't want to draw any attention. Luckily Sergio is a curious person when it comes to rumours and he asks what Cris was dying to ask.

“What about him?” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“He looked sick and Neymar was helping him to walk, I think. I don't know, maybe I saw it wrong, Dani Alves was blocking my view and I was distracted by his terrible haircut.”He says the last part jokingly. Sergio bites back a laugh becuase yeah, Alves' terrible haircuts are very popular. Cris suddenly stands up and all heads turn to him as he walks to the door.

“Cris where-” Sergio's words cut off by Iker.

“Cris, you have to wait for Rafa.” But Cris waves his hand in the air, ignoring his teammates and leaves the room. He doesn't know why he did this. Leaving the locker room before his coach makes a speech or leaving his teammates behind while they were supposed to be discussing their strategy for the second half. But Cris wants, no, no he needs to see _him_. Suddenly his only purpose is seeing him, his only goal is making him feel better. So he walks to Barça's locker room because Cris was so annoyed lately and now he is so worried that he can't think straightly. Fortunately, before he goes in and makes a scene, Neymar opens the door and comes face to face with the one and only Cristiano Ronaldo. Cris doesn't blame him for looking so surprised, mouth hang open.

“Umm, what are you doing here?” He points at the corridor. “Your locker room is there.” Which is a funny thing to say because this is Cristiano's stadium, he knows where his locker room is. But Cris only comes to his sense after hearing Neymar's voice, awkwardly standing in front of the room of Blaugranas.

“I wanted to see.. _Eu quero ver Leo_.” Neymar's eyes grow bigger, he looks nervous and Cristiano knows what they are hiding. He saw it once. At Atatürk Olympic Stadium. It feels like another lifetime.

“He is busy. Why do you even want to see him?” Neymar says defensively. Cris doesn't blame him. After all, he was not always nice to them or their precious friend. But he is not the bad guy as tabloids portray him.

“I just.. I need to, okay?” Then door opens again and Cristiano is kind of disappointed to see that it is not Leo who comes out but Dani Alves. And, oh boy, he looks angry. Dani eyes Cristiano carefully before speaking.

“I hear you two from inside, are you crazy? Don't give media anything to talk about. And the fuck you are doing here?”

“He says he is here to see Leo.” Neymar says, he doesn't look angry like his compatriot but obviously he is not happy to see Cris standing in front of their room either. Cristiano is tired. Tired of standing here, waiting for Leo. _Waiting for Leo_. He pushes Neymar aside and reaches to dorknob. Neymar is so shocked by his sudden behaviour that he couldn't react but Dani Alves is not.

“Bitch, you wanna die?” Dani Alves says as he blocks Cris' way. “Do you seriously want to get in a room full of Culés?”

“I only want to see Leo.” Cristiano says patiently. But he has a limit, too.

“Since when it is _Leo_ to you?” Neymar raises an eyebrow but Cristiano ignores the kid.

“Get off my way.” Cris says, gritting his teeth. But Dani Alves doesn't move, he looks up at Cristiano challengingly. Neymar looks worried suddenly, he doesn't want a fight (what is a Barça game without Neymar fighting someone though?). El Clásico is already nerve wrecking.Cris was about to say something when door opens again, Gerard Piqué looking at them suspiciously.

“What the fuck do you guys doing here? Leo needs-” He only notices Cristiano then. “Oh. Hi Cris.” Cris feels better to see a familiar face.

“Hey Gerard.”

“Umm.. what are you doing in front of our dressing room?”

“He says he wants to see Leo.” Neymar says for the second time today. Piqué raises his eyebrows but he doesn't look angry like Dani Alves.

“And why is that?” He asks curiously.

“You know what,” Cristiano says, so tired of culés questioning him, “forget about it. I am going back.” And without any of them can say anything, Cris is gone. He doesn't go to their dressing room, though. He stands in the coridor, leaning against the cold wall of Santiago Bernabéu, eyes tightly closed. He is an idiot.

 

 

But of course Cris is truly an idiot now for thinking that. And even a bigger one for doing it as he looks at the body lying on the ground, fans screaming from behind, most cheering happily, joking since they are Real Madrid fans. After he left, Benitez warned him about leaving locker room so soon without waiting for his speech or his teammates. He didn't pay much attention to him. His eyes stayed on the little Argentian who was just walking onto the pitch with his sidekick Neymar. He can fool everyone but not Cristiano. Because he knows what is the problem. So when the game starts again, Cristiano keeps an eye on the younger man. And after 3 minutes he notices how Leo forces himself to run faster, kick stronger. Cris is suddenly angry again. Angry at Messi for being so reckless and careless. He almost wants to punch him in the face which brings this crazy idea.

 

 

He runs when he sees ball touching Messi's boot like his feet made of the softest material, like Messi's feet are where it belongs. Under the surprised gaze of his friends and his opponents (and all the fans in the stands & behind their TVs), he slides, tackling Messi. It is harder than he intended to but it works because Messi doesn't get up and this is what Cristiano wanted. He wishes he didn't make a serious damage, only to take him off this match. Ref runs toward them, lifting his yellow card in the suddenly depressing, dark air of Madrid. Showing straight red to star player in a big match like El Clásico is suicidal after all. But Piqué, Neymar and Dani run them first. Piqué arguing with the ref about the color of the card while Neymar is checking Leo's leg, leaning closer to him and caresses his back as Messi clutches his leg, definetely in pain. Cris watches everything, frozen at the same spot after getting up. Someone pushes him from behind. Busquets.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” Busquets yells at his face angrily. And this is the question Cristiano keeps asking himself. He was not thinking at all. He only wanted Messi to get a discomfort which will end with him coming off so that he won't suffer anymore. But he fucked up again. Leo looks like he is in serious pain.

“I-” Cris was planning to apologize when Sergio shows up next to him and pushes Busquets away.

“Hey, Sergio, back off!” His friend says angrily, protecting Cristiano. Iker runs to them. Luka is standing 2 meters away from them, looking confused.

“What is your problem?” Jordi Alba yells at him behind them, standing next to Messi who is still lying on the ground, covering his eyes with his arm, waiting for the medics to come. Neymar stops him by pushing his chest, his other hand holding Messi's. Cristiano looks at their connected hands and frowns.

Sergio wraps an arm around Cristiano's shoulders, dragging him with himself, Iker finally comes next to them and tries to calm Cris down but Cristiano doesn't listen him. Yeah, he fucked up.

As he wished, medics take Messi out, Pedro comes in for him. But Cris is not sure if this is what he wanted.

 

 

Real Madrid wins 3-1. Later Cristiano scores his second goal in the match and other one comes from Bale's boots. After tests Barça announced that Messi will be out for 2 weeks which means he will miss the second leg. Hamstring injury. Enrique doesn't want to risk him for Copa while they are still fighting for Liga and Champions. Everybody thinks Cris did it on purpose (and they are right about it but different reasons) because he hates Messi or he wanted Messi to be nort available for second leg.

Cris hates it. He, once again, announce that he won't talk to press until the end of the season.

 

 

Cris is a coward, at least this is not what he tells to himself when he feels afraid of calling Leo. And he hates feeling like a coward. So he calls Leo without giving himself time to regret. It rings once, twice and Leo finally picks up.

“What?” He says annoyedly and Cristiano knows that he is in a bad mood. Messi who is always polite (too polite for his own good) would never answer his phone like that.

“Hola, Leo.” He says carefully. Messi doesn't answer right away. When he speaks his voice is dull, almost like trying to hide his annoyance and anger. Must be true.

“What do you want?” Cris doesn't know how to answer this question. What does he want seriously? _To hold you, to hug you, apologize for what I did but I wish you wouldn't be so stubborn because I cannot watch you hurt yourself anymore._

“Nothing. I just.. I am sorry. For what happened.”

“Why did you do that?” Leo asks suddenly. It is so unlike him. Leo normally doesn't ask many question, he is not bold like this. But now his voice is strengthened with anger. He is mad. Mad at Cris.

“I just-”

“You just what?!” Messi yells suddenly and Cris only then realizes how much it hurt Leo. He never yells. But not being able to play football for 2 weeks when it matters the most. It's March and most important matches are coming and Cristiano ruined it for him. He deserves Leo's anger but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. “You ruined everything! You are not even a type who goes for sliding tackles but you still did this to me.”

“I was trying to protect you.” Cristiano says suddenly. And it only makes Leo angrier.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yells once again.

“You don't know where to stop. And I-” Cris defends himself even though he knows this is a bad idea.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Yeah. That's it. The million dollars question. He is right though. Cris has no right to decide for him. But still-

“I don't need you worrying about me, okay?” When Messi speaks again, he doesn't sound mad, no, he sounds tired and sad and Cris hates it more because he is the reason behind his sadness. And it hurts to know that. “I am not a kid.”

“Leo, I-” He pathetically tries again.

“Don't call me again, _Ronaldo_.” Cris feels sick. It took them months to feel comfortable around each other, talking freely, knowing other one won't judge you or your decisions. He finally made Leo trust him and they came to the point of calling each other with nicknames. But now Leo building the wall between them again, pushing Cris out of his personal area. And Cris wants to clinch at him so bad. He doesn't want to let go but there is nothing he can do. “You are not good to me, stop talking to me, caring about me. Goodbye.”

“Leo-”

“Cris. Just.. leave me alone, okay?” Leo says annoyedly and then line went dead. Cristiano still whispers even though Messi can't hear him anymore.

“ _Mas eu não posso respirar sem você.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1-) I am learning Portuguese but I am new to this beautiful language. If my translation is not very good, feel free to tell me :)
> 
>  **Eu queria ouvir a sua voz =** I wanted to hear your voice
> 
>  **Foi tão bom ouvir a tua voz hoje =** It was so good to hear your voice today
> 
>  **Eu te amo =** I love you
> 
>  **Eu quero ver Leo =** I want to see Leo
> 
>  **Mas eu não posso respirar sem você =** I can't breathe without you
> 
> Pablo Aimar came back from a 12-month long injury and played his first game for River lately (even though I am a Boca fan, he is a Arg legend that I love very much) so I couldn't resist mentioning him here. Look how cute they are together;
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I don't have time for this, I am so depressed and I have many things to do but I stayed at home today and wrote this. I didn't like anything about this chapter plus I couldn't reread it so if I wrote something really stupid or made mistakes, please forgive every one of them.
> 
> By the way, I couldn't answer your comments lately, I don't know, I feel so rude when I don't but I have no time. Thanks for leaving comments, you always make me smile :)
> 
> A short and quick(!) update!

It is always so hard to build something new, be it your career or a complicated friendship between you and your biggest rival. Even only for a while, Cris thought he managed it and it was not so hard. Of course it was weird at the beginning. He was not used to talking with Messi. He always saw the other guy as an obstacle on his way to glory, his personal demon or maybe a reminder that he always has to work harder. But now that he knows him, he truly knows him, he sees him as a human being and it only makes things harder for Cris. He doesn't like what he is feeling. Because now Cris knows Leo Messi is human being just like anyone else (well, much more fascinating than them but a human nonetheless), he feels, he sleeps, he eats, he laughs, he cries.. Cris cannot avoid him anymore. And Cris doesn't even know if he wants to avoid the guy.

 

 

Next week, Cris meets with one of his former teammates, Ángel Di María. It was not planned, Ángel comes to Madrid for sponsorship deal and he calls Cristiano. First, Cris was surprised because he didn't talk to Ángel since he left Madrid. But he asks him to meet him at a cafe they were going together before he joined United and Cris accepts his offer because they are old friends after all and Ángel has been one of the biggest reasons they won La Décima. And it is always good to see him.

Cris tells him about Madrid and his life, Ángel talks about his future. Cris doesn't want to talk about his own future so he dodges every question skillfully. Ángel does not seem to notice, he keeps talking about Manchester United and Argentina National Team. Then it hits Cris.

Ángel knows Messi.

He truly knows him, he spends time with him, he plays with him and they stay in the same hotel during international call ups.

“Hey, Ángel.” He says after arguing with himself about asking or not. He feels pathetic but he needs to know.

“Yes?” Ángel says before taking a sip of his latte. He doesn't seem to notice Cris' stress.

“How are things with the national team since we last met?” By meeting, Cristiano of course means the friendly they played against each other in December. The friends that changed everything for Cris. And he doesn't know if he likes this change.

“Good. Well, trying to be.” Cris raises an eyebrow.

“What? What does it supposed to mean?”

“You know how much Grondona liked Leo,” Cris doesn't know, why would he? But Ángel mentioning Messi gets his attention, “and he always hated when Leo played with his ankle fucked up, which he did a lot. Now that he is dead, Segura and others are just provisional presidents and Tata sees it like it's his job to keep an eye on Leo. And he does but Leo is not happy with that. He hates it when people tell him that he can't play.”

“Is he still injured?” Cris asks, trying to look uninterested.

“Slightly. At least this is what he told me.” Ángel says. “But they also worried about him throwing up— ” Then Ángel realizes he is giving classified informations that was supposed to be kept as secret to an outsider and he quickly changes the subject. “Anyways, we are just nervous because he is our guarantee on the pitch.” Cris wants to ask more about it but he controls himself. Leo made it clear that he wants nothing to do with him so why should Cris care about him?

“So,” Cris says, helping Angelito to change the subject, “how is Jorgelina doing?”

 

 

Cris goes to training next day. Only to see Sergio sitting next to Iker in the dressing room, showing him his phone. Iker rolls his eyes, pushing his hand away, trying to tie his shoe laces in peace. Sergio complains about something then turns his attention to his phone. Isco and James talking about new boots. Cris sits on the bench, Bale greets him with a polite nod. Cris softly smiles and turns all his attention to his bag at his feet. All his teammates are just noises are in the background as he takes off his shirt. He feels like he is having one of those weird dreams where everything and everyone is to fast but you move in slowmotion. He feels strange, standing here, in the dressing room with his friends, his teammates. Suddenly he feels lonely, like he doesn't belong there. And he wants to talk to someone about this.. feeling, someone who would understand the weight he is carrying. But that person doesn't want to talk to him anymore (rightly so). And Cris has never been more lonely in his life.

 

 

Cris was so sure that he won't ever call Leo Messi again.. until he heard his injury (which Cris caused) has gotten worse and that he will be away from pitches for another week. Cris bites his lower lip. He wants to call him, fuck, this is his fault and he knows how much he hates not being able to play. Messi is no different for sure. But he also remembers that Messi told him to stay away from him and never call again. Then Cris says, fuck it because when was the last time he listened someone other than himself?

Leo picks up the phone immediately.

“Hola?” Cris thinks he didn't check the ID because if Leo knew it was Cris, he would start screaming or swearing or.. Cris is not sure. He doesn't know Messi that well. Not yet. And he wants to change that.

“Hola, Leo.”

“Oh.” Messi says after 5 seconds of silence. “Cris?”

“Yeah.” Cris murmurs dumbly. He is not sure what to say to him.

“So.. how have you been?” Leo asks and Cris bites back his laughter because after their last phone call, Cris would expect Messi to be mad and yell at him, ask why he called him again but, no, Leo asks him how he has been.

“I am good. What about you? I heard you were not doing very good lately.”

“Who told you that? Must be a liar.”

“Are you calling Ángel a liar?” Cris asks playfully.

“You talked to Ángel about me?” Leo asks, sounding surprised.

“Not that I asked about you.” Cristiano says uncomfortably. “We were talking about our national teams and he mentioned you.”

“And what did he say exactly?” Leo asks again, more calmly this time. Voice gives away nothing.

“He said they are worried about you.” Cris says softly. Leo makes a sound.

“I don't need anyone to worry about me. I am perfectly fine.”

“I could shot you in the chest and your last words before dying would be 'I am fine'.” Cris says and to his surprise, Leo laughs at his silly joke.

“Don't pretend like you are any different.”

“I am not as stubborn as you are.” Cris corrects him. And he glances at the clock on the wall. “Oh, shit, sorry. I didn't realize it was that late. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?”

“Hmm, no. You know, I can't play or go to training. So I am just lying on my couch and watching silly dramas.” Cris realizes he is craving to be with him that moment, lie next to him, warm each other and watch more silly dramas. Away from the world that puts so much pressure on them.

“I always imagined you as a sleepyhead.” Cris says and mentally facepalms. Saying 'I imagined you' sounds very wrong. But Leo doesn't seem to notice.

“I normally am.” He says honestly. “But then there are times I can't sleep.” Leo confesses to him.

“What do you think about when you can't?” Cris asks curiously.

“Various things. I think about my life and what would it become without me having.. you know, not coming here at such a young age.” Cris frowns.

“I thought you loved here.” He corretcs himself. “There. Barcelona.” Because when he talks to him, it is easy to forget that they are rivals living in different cities who were supposed to be hating each other.

“I do. I truly love here but..” He sighs before continuing, “I think I will never be able to get over how this transfer happened. I wish it wouldn't be this way.”

“I know that feeling.” Cris says softly.

“How? You wanted to leave United.”

“It's not— I just wish—” Cris lets it go after that. He wants to be honest with Leo for some unknown reason. “Things between us wouldn't be this way.”

“Oh.” is Leo's only answer to Cris' honesty.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” Leo says softly and quietly and it encourages Cris to say more.

“I missed talking to you.”

“I thought you were busy with finding a new place for your future Pichichi, now that you got rid of me with that tackle.” Cris winces. He knows Leo is joking and that he is not mad anymore but he still feels like an idiot. He has no reason to worry about Cris winning another individual trophy though.

“Yeah, yeah. It is not that hard, you guys collect every single trophy so I have plenty of space.” Cris wasn't planning to sound so bitter but it hurts like a bitch to watch your rivals win everything while you are trying your hardest but fail anyway. He doesn't get it, he hates it. Cris, for years, tries, he tries so fucking hard to win something for his team. But in the end, he has one league and one UCL trophy (because these are the ones Cris loves and cares the most). And deep down Cristiano knows it's not just Mourinho or Ancelotti following a wrong system in his second year or players being problematic. It is true that Portuguese and Spanish players had some problems because of Mourinho but it's all behind now and they finally became the team they wanted to be. Real Madrid played beautiful football during Ancellotti's management and Cris misses it. Win or lose, it feels great to play like that. But of course, Pérez had to ruin everything.

“Maybe everybody gets what they want after all.” Leo says challengely. Cris laughs bitterly.

“You know, I cannot believe you are from the same country with Maradona.”

“I do. People keep reminding me all the time.” Leo says, suddenly sounding so tired and bored that it only makes Cris even more angry.

“Why are you worrying, though? People always compare you with Maradona and Pelé. Majority of the people believe you are the greatest of all time. It is easier for you. I, on the other hand, have to work harder to prove my worth.” Cris knows he is being unfair but he doesn't care at the moment. He is angry and he is tired, tired of trying so hard to reach Messi and fail every time. “Not all of us are natural born genuises, _Leo_.” Cris knows he hit _the_ spot.

“Fuck you.” says Leo suddenly. “Why are you always playing the victim? Do you think it was easy for me? Do you believe that sticking a needle into your own skin every single day for 3 years was easy? Or getting extra days off because pain was unbearable or vomiting up your soul all the time, people pitying you? Leaving the country you call your home at 13 because no one ever believed in you other than these guys from the otherside of the ocean and living in a place where you feel completely strange and lonely? Locking yourself in a bathroom when you cry because you don't want anyone to see you like that? Knowing that what you love hurts you both physically and mentally the most but you still cannot give up on it? But no, it's always you. You are always the victim, _oh poor guy, whole world is against me._ You know what, maybe it's you. You are the reason!” Then there is silence. When Leo speaks again, his voice is softer. “I am sorry. I shouldn't say that. I lost myself. I apologize.”

“Yeah. But you have a point.” Cris says, rubbing his face. “I am sorry, too. But this is the only way I know. Because I am not like you. I don't live in a bubble where I ignore everyone and everything. I care. I care what people think of me.” Because it is true. Leo doesn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings but he doesn't care if people like him or not. He appreciates the love he gets, but he doesn't need it. He lives in a bubble like Cris said, only letting people close to him get in. And Cris wants to be one of those people so bad. But whenever he feels like he is getting in, Leo pushes him out again. It is frustrating and Cris hates how unworthy Leo makes him feel.

“So you make them believe you are a dick?” Leo asks but Cris knows he is half joking.

“I make them believe they can't hurt me because if I love myself the most, then why would I care what others feel about me?”

“But you do.” Leo says too quietly but Cris hears him anyway.

“And it sucks.” Cris thinks Leo won't answer that and change the subject because this is what Leo does. But not this time.

“Well, at least people see you as a human.” Leo says softly and Cris can't be sure if he is sounding disappointed or sad. Maybe both.

“Oh, you don't like them calling you an alien, no?” Cris says jokingly but Leo is serious.

“They don't see me as a person, well, most of them. Media and football fans think I don't have a heart you can break, that I am just a footballer and nothing more. Somehow that's enough.” Leo is right, Cris knows. Leo is distant and people barely knows him because he likes his privacy and he doesn't show his emotions in front of cameras. So that strengthens his god-like image. On the other hand, Cris lives his every emotions freely. He gets angry, he makes mistakes on the pitch (like punching his opponents), he celebrates his every goal like he's won the biggest prize in the world. He loves it, he loves living and he is not afraid of showing it. And people see it, they know he is a human, that he has other things in life and if he makes mistakes, it's understandable but Messi is that awkward little god. Cris always hated how Messi always has been the 'anti-superstar' between them. Not because Cris doesn't enjoy being a 'superstar' (and he doesn't think living the way he lives is wrong) but Messi is just.. it seems like he is not aware of what he has. Most men idolize footballers because they are living a dream. They are rich, they are popular, they are famous, women love them.. And of course they idolize Cris' life. Cris dated some very beautiful women, he has the best cars, fancy clothes and jewelries. He has everything a man can ask for. But Messi, despite his richness and fame, has nothing other than football that man can idolize. He wears boring white t-shirts all the time, he doesn't prefer sport cars, he rarely goes out at night (and when he does it's with his close friends or family), he only dated one girl who was his childhood sweatheart from Rosario where he was born. She was his neighbour! Cris laughed when he first heard it. Because it was so Messi. In the end, there is nothing to make other men jealous of him. Media find him boring. And yes, Leo Messi is a 'person' you cannot break because he is not even a person, he is just a footballer, at least this is how people see him. Cris never thought it would bother Leo.

“It's you,” Cris uses Leo's words against him, “maybe you are the reason.”

“I am.” Leo says clearly. “And I love my life the way it is but.. it hurts when people call you pecho frío.” _Oh._ Cris gets it now.

“They are all idiots.” He says passionately. “They don't deserve you. If they worship that cheating bastard instead of you, then they don't deserve you. You are so—  They can't see it but I can. Whole world can.” Cris expects Leo to defend the people he loves. His people. But instead, he mumbles, “Diego is a good person.” Cris makes an annoyed sound.

“Sure he is. Everybody knows how he ruined you mentally.”

“He—“ Cris waits for him to continue. “It doesn't matter anymore.” Leo says in the end, sounding like defeated.

“You are not the—” Cris stops himself because he doesn't know how to continue. “If you let them see what kind of person you really are, then they would know how wrong they are.”

“And what kind of person I really am?” Leo asks.

“ _Você é bom. Você é forte. Você é unico. Você me completa, me faz querer te amar mais ainda.”_

 

 

“You know,” Iker says, chewing his steak, “you should talk to her.”

They are all having dinner together, Iker, Sergio, Cris, Bale, James and Isco. It is comforting and Cris didn't know he needed it until Iker asked him to come with them. Sergio is arguing with Isco about something related to Spain NT (Cris couldn't care less) and Bale talking about international duties with James. Cris looks up at his captain.

“Excuse me?” Iker doesn't look at him, cutting his meat.

“You should talk to the girl who messes up with your head.”

Cris swallows hardly. When he speaks, his voice is low and harsh.

“What if it's not a **she**?” Iker's hand stilling on the fork he's holding. He looks at Cris, his expression doesn't chance.

“Then you should talk to _him._ ” He says, his eyes don't leave Cris' as he takes another bite of his meat. Cris licks his dry lips before speaking.

“And what if that person is someone I shouldn't be seeing?” Iker smiles softly before cutting another piece.

“I don't know why you think such a stupid thing.” Cris raises an eyebrow.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asks and takes a sip of his red wine.

“There is nothing wrong with you hanging out with Messi unless you give him our locker room secrets.” Cris chokes on his wine, eyes wide open.

“What—”

“Oi, what happened to Messi?” Sergio asks, finally turning toward Cris and Iker. Whole table look at them. Cris wipes his mouth silently. Sergio raises an eyebrows and Iker feels a need to explain. His eyes don't leave Cris' face entire time.

“He will miss another week, I heard.” He says simply.

“Oh, that's good.” Sergio says, smiling widely. Cris throws him an angry glance and Sergio's smile fades quickly. “I mean, not good but—— you know without him— Yeah, I think I will shut up.” He reaches for his white wine. Iker frowns at his long term friend.

“Yeah, you do that.” He says. Cris doesn't listen to the rest of the conversation. He is too lost in his thoughts to care about what his teammates talking about. But he feels Iker's eyes on himself whole night. And his words never leave Cris' mind.

Would it be seriously okay? Cris always respects and believes his captain's words but this time he finds it hard to agree with him. Cris and Leo are so different. Cris cannot imagine an alternate universe where they are friends. And what if Cris wants to be more than friends? Would it be okay too?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"You're kind. You are strong. You are unique. You complete me, you make me want to love you more. " (I know bom means 'good' but I also think we can use it as 'kind', please correct me if I am wrong)
> 
> As I said before, I am learning Portuguese all by myself (I always learn languages by myself this is why my English is not very good -I am sure you noticed-) and feel free to correct my mistakes :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, quick and short update. Well, I feel like this story is going to be longer than intended. Maybe more than 5 chapters? Don't know.

Cris is a proud man. And very passionate one, too. He has never hide his emotions. He is proud of them. Football gave him freedom unlike what most people would think. Modern football is equal to slavery for people like Messi. Because Leo can win whatever he wants on the pitch, but off it he will always lose, no matter what. Because Messi doesn't give anything to media, he doesn't sue anyone when they insult him or write lies about him, he is very popular all around the world but somehow lives like he is not aware of it. He is socially awkward and he doesn't show any intention to play this media game. People don't know him and that makes them think he is cold, distant and soulless.

They are so different.

On the other hand, Cris was born to be famous. He enjoys it and there is nothing wrong with it. He enjoys being able to afford everything he wants, he enjoys the love he gets from strangers, he likes modelling, having his own brand. He loves feeling like a king when he walks into somewhere. Maybe Cris loves football so much because it gave him everything he's ever wanted. Above all, his confidence. Because as a child, he was not always confident. He was not always good looking either. There were times other kids made fun of his Madeiran accent. But football doesn't care any of these. On the pitch, the only important thing is your dedication and talent. Maybe Cris was not the most talented kid at his age group but there is nothing to be ashamed of. Because he has something they don't. His dedication, his obsession with the game. It was his anchor.

And maybe, after football boosting his confident, Cris lived his feelings more openly. There was no sadness that has to be hidden. No joy that feels guilty. And he fell in love. Many times. He had never hidden it either. He was always open with his feelings, he was smooth and a skillfull lover. He only likes to play games on the pitch, but in real life, if he likes someone, he would directly talk to them.

Cris is in love.

But this time, it took him 6 months to confess his feelings to himself.

 

 

Cris wants to text Messi, a night before the second leg of Copa del Rey quarter finals. Because Cris still feels guilty about that tackle. God, what was he thinking? Well, of course he was not thinking but it was not his fault! Messi was like the moon blocking sunrises, stopping them from reaching the Earth. And just like that, Messi is blocking every other details in Cris' life. When he is there, close to him, Cris can't think clearly, can't see anything else. He only wanted to protect Leo. And even though his intention was good, he was the one who hurt Leo. And he finds it so hard to forgive himself (even though Leo already forgave him).

He is not sure what to say to Leo. Sorry? Good luck? None of them sounds good and Leo is not even playing. Wishing good luck to your opponent is a very, very bad idea in the end. So Cris decides to text something that's not related to football.

“ _A lua é muito bonita esta noite, não?”_

 

 

On Wednesday night, Barça makes an unexpected comeback without Messi even being on the pitch and beats Madrid 4-1 at Camp Nou. Cris wants to be mad but he is not sure at whom. He couldn't find in himself to be mad at Bale who missed 2 sitters and now sitting on his bench (after all it's his job to score as well), hiding his face between his hands. He pats him on the back softly as he makes his way to his locker. Bale is not the fanboy people would expect him to be. He respects and likes Cristiano, that's it. Still, he couldn't stop himself from craving for Cris' approval.

Cris takes off his jersey annoyedly. Rafa keeps telling them to not worry because it is just Copa and that it is better this way because they can finally focus on Champions and La Liga but Cris heard it all before. And a cup is a cup no matter what and he wants them all. Being so good at your job has its disadvantages. You always want more and more because you cannot live up to your title without winning. And you cannot spend a peaceful day without getting criticized.

“Cris.” Cristiano lifts his head, looking at his captain. Iker doesn't look any better than him. But he still smiles at Cris. And Cris hates it because Iker can see through him and he doesn't want anyone's sympathy, he doesn't deserve it. “Come on, be quick. We have to catch the bus on our way back to the hotel.” This brings back a memory. It feels like ages ago while it's only been months. Cris wonders if he misses the bus and sits on the stairs of Camp Nou, would Leo find him too?

But instead, he says “Okay.” Because Leo is not even at Camp Nou (which is Cristiano's fault). And he doesn't want to spend another second here, in this dressing room. It hurts Cristiano. And somehow it has nothing to do with them losing tonigh.

 

 

If it was someone else, he would get scolded for going to the hotel's bar after midnight. Especially after such a terrible loss. But it's Cristiano Ronaldo and he really needs a drink at the moment. So even though Iker sees where he is going, he doesn't say anything.

Cris doesn't like drinking. Not only because what happened to his father but it also messes with your head and as an athlete he cannot drink beer at all. And even though there is a stereotype of rich people drinking wine and champagne, Cris is not a big fan of the taste. Instead, he drinks two or three glasses of whisky. It is not too much but he is not drinking on a regular basis and it already makes everything lighter. His body, his brain, his life.

“Oh my God.” He hears someone saying. A sweet voice of a mature woman. Cris turns his head slowly, seeing a 30-35 years old woman in short, black dress standing right nex to him. “Tonight is my lucky day. I first met Lionel Messi and now I will be drinking next to one and only Cristiano Ronaldo.” She says cheerfully. Cris' heart starts beating faster.

“What?” He says, his voice sounding strange to him. She laugh loudly, it is nice. She is a beautiful blonde and Cris would like to spend a night with her. She sits next to him, on another bar stool, brushing her long blonde hair away from her face.

“Don't worry,” she says playfully, “I am just joking. Messi is not here.” Cris takes a deep breath. Of course she is joking. What would Messi be doing here, in the middle of the week? In a hotel while he already has a house in the city. When his team just won an important game. “Wow, do you really hate him that much?” She asks. Cris tells bartender to fill his glass again.

“Why would you think that way?” She smiles. Cris likes her full lips and red as blood lipstick.

“You tensed when I said his name. I mean I know you are rivals but I have never imagined you as enemies.”

“We are not.” Cris says simply, taking a sip of his whiskey. She nods. After a minute of silence, Cris asks, only to say something and break this annoying silence. Because he doesn't want to be left alone with his own thoughts.

“A Madrid fan in Barcelona, huh? You are a brave woman.” She throws her head back as he she laughs. Cris likes women who laugh freely.

“What? No! I am an Athletic Club fan.” She throws her fist up in the air jokingly. “Vamos Los Leones!”

“Then you are not a big fan of me?” He asks, smiling cheekily. Yeah, Cris doesn't like drinking but he cannot deny that it makes him feel better in moments like this.

“I am actually fan of Messi.” She says, smiling amusedly.

“Oh. I see.” He says.

“Don't worry,” she says, “I find you attractive.” Cris laughs. Just what he would like to hear.

“Thanks. This is the first time someone saying this to me.”

“Wow, so humble.” She says sarcastically. She finishes her drink before sliding off the bar stool, taking a key card out of her small handbag. “So, I am staying here and I have a mini bar full of drinks and sweets. Would you help me to finish them?”

 

 

Cris is not always gentle with his lovers. He likes it fast and rough when he is drunk and luckily, his company tonight wants exactly the same thing. She grips his hair tightly, pulling him closer. Cris moans into her mouth, closing the door after them. He pulls back from the kiss for a second, to see where the bed is. He pushes her down onto the bed beneath him. She is lying on her back on the bed, grinning at him.Cris takes off his shirt and jeans. Leaving himself only in his boxers. She unzips her own dress but before she can take it off, Cris pushes her hands away, pinning them down next to her head and burries his head in her neck. She moans loudly, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“God,” she laughs, “let me take off this dress, it's too tight.” Cris moans and pushes her harder against bed. She laughs once again. “Okay, okay, whatever you want, bad boy.” Then suddenly something changes. Cris cannot breathe. And it has nothing to do with him burrying his head in her neck. He can smell her perfume. Too feminine, not for young, teenage girls. Cris feels lost. He is not horny anymore. He just wants to hug someone until he cries because he feels numb and maybe crying would make him feel something again. He hates being numb. He hates being not able to feel. Even sadness has its own beauty. And Cris thinks of only person who would make him feel things that he's not experienced. It is not like this is the first time he fell in love. But this is the first time he feels like he cannot have what he wants. And it is not like that girl who rejects you behind the walls of your high school. It is worse. Cris wants to reach him, pull him closer. He wonders what he smells like, if his skin is as soft as it looks. But above all he wonders if he can help him to feel again. Wash this numbness off him. Cris lifts his head from where it's buried. He doesn't look at her face, he knows it's rude but he just cannot look at her face as he crawls off the bed.

“Where-- What are you doing?!” She looks at him surprisedly, half lying and half sitting on the huge bed. Cris searches for his clothes on the floor, collecting them before sitting at the edge of the bed, tying his shoes.

“I am leaving.” He says flatly. She comes closer to him on her knees on the bed, putting one hand on his shoulder. But Cris gets up on his feet and her hand falls on the bed.

“But, but, why?” She asks confusedly. They were having fun until now. Cris doesn't look at her when he answers

“Because I don't want to be here.” He answers simply before closing the hotel room's door after himself.

“Gosh,” she sighs, “they were right about him. What an arrogant bastard.” She mumbles after him, throwing herself against the mattress.

 

 

Barcelona is a beautiful city, Cris must admit. But maybe it's the people living there that makes a city so beautiful. Because while he is driving a rental car around the city, Cris feels like this is the most beautiful one all around the world.

 

 

When the doorbell rang, Leo was lying on his stomach, not watching the drama playing on the TV. Instead, he was texting Kun, making fun of Pocho for making stupid, sexy commercials. He is happy that his team beat Real Madrid and continue their way in the competition. But he is tired, his leg is still hurting and he needs rest. So he stays at home even though Gerard and Neymar called him twice to convice him to go with them. He puts his phone away, gets up and walks to the door. Leo doesn't expect anyone but deep down he thinks it must be Gerard or Ney. Not many people would dare to disturb him so late, especially not after he said he is not interested. Leo pulls his sweatshirt sleeves more down his arms, almost covering his fingers. He is wearing sweatpants, his hair tousled and his feet bare. _It better be Gerard or Ney,_ Leo thinks before opening the door. He has that bad habit of not asking who is this before opening the door.

But it is not Gerard nor Ney. Leo opens his mouth to whisper his name and ask what he is doing here. But before he could make a sound, Cris pushes him, hard. Leo's back hits the door and he was about to ask what the fuck is he doing but Cris' hands find Leo's face, touching the soft skin of his cheeks and his touch is not hard or rough as Leo expected. He is gentle. But not too gentle when he pulls Leo closer to himself, their lips meeting clumsily.

Everyone would believe that Cris copes with the fame and responsibilities better than Leo. Because he is a great professional after all, no? Someone was born to be famous. But this is not true at all. Because Leo has that talent of avoiding everything around him. And Cris can't. This drives him mad. Because Leo is not only avoiding media or negative people, he is also avoiding Cris and Cris wants to hold him tightly, scream him why he is doing it. Because Cris wants to be close to him, God, how could Leo want to stay away while there is this crazy chemistry between them. It is not only sexual tension or something. It is a feeling that drives Cris crazy. And he can't take this anymore. So here he is, standing in the doorway of Messi's house, kissing him hungrily.

Leo makes a sound, eyes wide open. Cris pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily. But their faces are still too close. Leo looks up at him with wide, beautiful brown eyes.

“What are-”

“Shh.” Cris presses his index finger to Leo's lips. His eyes are still closed like he wants stay in the world in his head, where he is not a football star who failed and disappointed his team (even though his teammates would disagree with that), doesn't have to face the world and he can love whoever he wants with no fear. “Don't say anything. Please.” Leo opens his mouth, only to close again without any sound escaping. He sees the pain, tiredness and age, oldness that doesn't fit the guy standing in front of him, only inches away from him. Leo feels his heart clenching tightly in his chest. He remembers how many times he had lost. He remembers how he had to deal with Maradona and that burying his face in the pillow to keep from crying while hiding in his room because no weaknesses allowed in public. How badly he wanted to escape from the life he is living. How much he wanted someone to take away his pain, only for a night or two.

So he buries his hands in Cris's thick, dark hair, pulling him closer. Because he knows. He knows how much being the person they are hurt. And he kisses Cris' lips that taste slightly salted from his tears. They both didn't realize that tears were rolling down on his check until then.

Leo wants to say it will get better and that they both dealt with worse. But he knows Cris doesn't want to hear any of these. So he doesn't say anything. Only opens his mouth to let his tongue find Cris'.

Because this is what he needed after all. And Leo is more than willingly to give him what he wants.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"The moon is very beautiful tonight, right? "


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am too fast, am I not?
> 
> Lmao how cheesy this story has become.. Well, we only have one more chapter to go :)

Leo impatiently looked at the digits, the building is too big, elevator ride is too long. Leo shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, aware of the eyes on his back. He is in a not-too-big elevator with one of the assistants working here and he is obviously starstruck. He sighs, waiting for the elevator to stop at his floor and when it does, he gets out of there like running away from brain eating zombies. Another man, slightly older than the assistant in the elevator with Leo, greets him with a huge smile.

“Oh, welcome, Mr. Messi. We were waiting for you.”

“Umm, yeah..” Leo says, eyes wandering around the room, “I had something to take care of at home. Sorry.”

“Please, we are happy that you made it here.” He puts his hand on Leo's back, leading him to another room, away from cameras and his team(?). “First, you are going to sign these shirts and boots then we will take some photos.” Leo sighs but lets him to lead him to the big room with many mirrors, clothes and so many different kind of food and drinks. He asks for a coffee, he is not a big fan of the taste but he needs it this morning.

 

 

Cris rubs his eyes and groans loudly. One of the reasons he hates drinking is this hangover feeling and terrible headache. Plus he is so thirsty and his mouth tastes like cotton. Cris opens his eyes slowly, not sure if it's morning. It is, indeed. The first thing he realizes is that he is not lying on his own bed. He is on the couch. So he couldn't even make it to his bed. His eyes meet with the pale ceiling. Wait, he is in Barcelona, he didn't even go to his house because he cannot but he is also not in his hotel room which he shares with Fabio. Cris turns his eyes worriedly. In that short moment, he thinks many stupid possibilities. Being kidnapped by crazy fans or organ mafias or worse.. aliens. He, indeed, was kidnapped by an alien though. The events of the last night comes to him and hit him like a bus when he realizes he has done something very, very stupid. Cris groans again and sits. He notices 2 pills, a glass of water and a note on the coffee table. The alien is not at home maybe. He doesn't hear any sound. He takes the pills and water first, swallows them slowly and gladly. Then he takes the note.

 

_I am busy today. Stay as long as you want._

 

That's it? Cris suddenly feels angry. Furious. Mad. He crumples the paper in his angry fist and throws it to the TV on the wall in front of him. That bastard kissed him last night (technically Cris kissed him first but Messi kissed him back, didn't he?). But what did Cris get now? A piece of paper written formally. That cold, soulless, heartless bastard.

He finds his phone in his pocket, checks the hour and groans once again. He is so fucked up. And all these missed calls and messages are proof of that.

 

 

Cris wanders around Leo's house for 10 minutes. He finds bathroom to wash his face, he also finds a spare toothbrush. He drinks a glass of grape juice, leaving the house. But before finding the bathroom, he goes into 4 different rooms and one of them is Leo's bedroom apperantly. Cris wants to close the door and try other doors until he finds a bathroom but something stops him. He walks inside quietly. There is no one in the huge house but still he feels like he has to be quiet. He sits on the bed slowly, touching the pillow and wonders what side Leo is sleeping on. He looks around the room, very simple. What was he expecting from this man though? Everything is grey, white or black. Black duvets, grey walls, white wardrobe. Too plain for Cris' taste. He would like some red. He walks to the wardrobe. He feels like a creep but before leaving the room, he smells his clothes, he's been wondering what Leo smells like from this close for a while now. And he pretends he doesn't know how this one silk scarf-like neckerchief get in his pocket.

 

 

“Where the fuck were you?!” Iker hissed at him angrily when Cris walks into the cafetaria where his teammates are having breakfast before leaving. His eyes are burning with anger but there is a hint of worry and relief.

“I am fine. I had.. something to do. Don't worry.” Cris says, placing his plate on the table and sits next to his captain. Sergio takes a huge bit of his croissant like they are not even there. He doesn't look worried, probably thinking Cris got laid last night. Only if he knew...

“Do you know how much I and Fabio went through to cover for you?” Iker says annoyedly, his eyes are wandering around their star player's face. He notices Cris doesn't look very happy but after last night's result, it's expected.

“I am sorry to cause you any problems, will not happen again.” He says calmly, _too calmly._ Iker, not completely convinced, keeps looking at him.

“Dude,” Sergio suddenly says, taking another bite, “it's too hot for wearing a neckerchief, are you okay?” Sergio points at his neck, Cris moves uncomfortably, hand goes to his neck. “Is this a new style or something? It is too Messi-like.” He makes a face. “What is next? Polka dot suit?”

“God, Sese, don't talk with your mouth ifull.” Iker says, makes a disgusted face. Sergio complains about Iker being like a mother and Cris is glad Sergio changed the subject without actually meaning it. He takes off the neckerchief, fingers tightly wrapped around it under the table.

 

 

Cris goes back to his room, only to take his bag and change his clothes. His bag is lying next to his untouched bed. He apologizes Fabio softly before he leaves Cris alone in the room. Cris looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn't look any different, then why he feels like he's compeltely changed? He goes back into the room. neckerchief lying on his bed. It's simple like how its owner sees himself. It's grey with white, faded stripes. But deep down Cris knows what a complicated person Leo is. He is trying but he can't get him. He buries his nose intp the fabric, smelling it. The smell is strong, Cris closes his eyes. It is nothing like Cris has smelled before. It is sweet and addictive. Cris wants to smell it again. But not from this piece of cloth. He wants to smell the source.

Cris looks at himself in the mirror next to him. He is standing in the middle of the room, smelling a piece of cloth, eyes half closed. He looks ridicilous. He thinks only one thing;

_What the fuck am I doing?_

 

 

 After that, they both focus on their own lives. A week passes like that. Cris goes back to training while Leo still can't play any competitive game, he is only training alone. Juanju keeps telling him to take it easy but Leo has no patience left. Cristiano's tackle was worse than they thought. He is frustrated and he feels lonely when the door closes after himself, only to bear a dark, cold house. He can't stop thinking of that one certain, very short moment.

 

 

Leo is used to hiding his emotions. This ability of him has its advantages and disadvantages. He was called pecho frío because of this while it also allowed him to stay sane as people breathe down his neck, whole world's eyes on him. It is actually more than emotional intelligence. It became a habit when he was 13, living with his father in a small apartment in Barcelona, injecting himself every night, lonely at friday nights, crying in the bathroom while trying not to make a sound. Because no weaknesses allowed to shown. Not to his father, nor his friends or coaches. He will always be grateful to Cesc and Gerard for keeping up with him.

 

 

Cris had lunch with Marcelo and Fabio after training. They avoided talking about football, they all feel sick of it suddenly. They are top class players who always want to win so not winning always seems like the end of the world to them even though they tell totally a different thing to media and fans. Cris met with some friends after that, had a couple of drinks. It is like he had delayed going home.

And when he parks his car outside of his house, he takes his time to get out of the car. He walks to his door, finding keys in his pocket when he hears someone cleaning his throat.

“Hola.” Cris lifts his head, looking at the person in front of him with wide eyes.

“Hola.” He whispers. Leo shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. He looks so weird here, standing in front of Cris' house, like he doesn't belong here. Oh, how Cris wishes he would though. “What are you doing here?” Cris asks finally. Leo's hand goes to his hair, playing with soft strands back of his head. He looks nervous. Cris wants to laugh. You can't always see _the_ Lionel Messi nervous.

“We couldn't talk before and you left and I--”

“Come in.” Cris says, pushing Messi aside to open the door. “Let's talk inside.”

 

 

Cris' house is nice. But Cris feels uncomfortable when Leo walks into his house, his life. What are they doing? This is the question Cris keeps asking to himself lately. He didn't talk to Messi after that night. He didn't see him. He avoided seeing anything related to him. Cris was tired of running after Messi. He is not used to run after other people. And for once, Cris wanted Leo to come to him. But he would never thought this wish could come true. Until now.

 

 

“So..” Cris says but Leo lifts his hand. Cris told him to sit down and get comfortable before leaving the room to change his clothes. When he comes back, Leo is still standing in the middle of the room, looking around uncomfortably.

“Let me speak first.” Leo says and Cris shrugs. It is better that way, Cris won't complain. Leo looks at his shoes nervously but his eyes meet with Cris' when he speaks. “I am.. I am not good at this.”

“This?” Cris raises an eyebrow. No more hiding. Leo has to say it.

“I am not good at expressing my emotions. I hid them for so long that now I just.. I sometimes feel like-- I am scared.” He confesses in one breath.

“You? Scared? The great Lionel Messi? I wonder what would everyone who calls you fearless think if they heard it?” Cris jokes mercilessly. But Leo stays still, not finding Cris' poor humour attemps funny.

“Because..” He blinks few times like he is blinking tears back and Cris looks at him shockedly because he was not expecting Leo to be this.. emotional. He would expect Leo to be cold as always. Well, cold is not the right word, but distant is. “I wonder if they are right.”

“Right about what?” Cris asks, voice softer than ever. He is genuinely worried about the guy in front of him.

“Me being.. you know. I fear I have no right to be broken.” Cris takes a step forward, walking until he is standing in Messi's personal space, lifting his shaking hands uncertainly. But when he hold Leo's face between his hands, they are strong and warm against Leo's skin. Leo's eyes are half closed at the touch. Cris leans forward until their faces are inches away.

“How could someone who doesn't feel anything can make me feel all these things?” Leo opens his eyes, looking up at Cris' eyes with his big, brown ones. He looks lost and it hurts Cris.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispers. Cris doesn't get what he means first. Then it hits him.

“Heart wants what it wants.” Cris whispers back. Leo's eyes leave Cris', he is focused on somewhere over Cris' shoulder.

“I keep thinking..” He whispers, “I keep thinking what will I become when I retire.

“You are 28, Leo. Leave it to old guys like me.” Cris laughs freely, finally feeling joy inside his chest after all these times. His age, his status, his rensponsibilities don't scare him anymore. All because of this guy awkwardly standing in the middle of his house, all is his doing. And Cris can't find it in himself to be mad at Leo for making him feel this way.

“But you have other things in life and I.. I have only football.” Leo still looks broken, tired and sad. How can he look like this when Cris is about to burst with joy? Because Cris can feel it inside his bones. It's finally happening after 7 months.

“You have a great family.” He says firmly. Leo has to understands, he has to see. Leo can have so much more than that. Cris can give him much more than that.

“They all have their lives, their own families. But I have nothing. I can't rely on them forever.” Leo's eyes finally meet with Cris' again. His eyes are shining but there is no trace of tears. “I am not easy, I know. I am not an easy to person to get along with. I sulk when I lose. I don't talk to anyone. I am quiet, weird, annoying sometimes and--” Cris firmly holds Leo's face then. Their foreheads are almost touching. Cris doesn't let Leo look anywhere but him. Cris' eyes are burning with passion and love. Leo feels so shocked under his gazes, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

“Let me be your anchor then.” Cris says strongly. “Let me give you everything you deserve. I know you are not used to people giving you something. But I want to be that person. _Deixe-me te amar.”_ Leo may not know the meaning of last words but he doesn't need to. He knows what Cris means, what he wants. And Leo is more than willingly to give, oh God, Leo is always ready to give Cris whatever he needs. But this?

“Can we do this? Really?” He whispers, Cris can feel Leo's breathe on his lips, their faces are getting closer. Leo is not looking at Cris' eyes but it's okay because his eyes on Cris' lips and Cris stops himself before hepushes him on the couch behind Leo and kissing him passionately. But no, they have to talk first because Leo has to know how much this means to Cris and that Cris is actually, truly in love with him.

“Why wouldn't we?” His voice is desperate with excitement and want. He sounds like he is trying to convince Leo and maybe this is actually what he is doing.

“Loving someone is giving them power to hurt you.” Leo says uncertainly. His eyes still focused on Cris' lips. Cris licks his lips before speaking and it maybe distracts Leo.

“I don't know who hurt you so much to make you think this way but loving can be giving someone a chance to make you happy.” Leo lifts his eyes, meeting with Cris'. He doesn't look so broken now. He looks hopeful, surprised like he can't believe what he is hearing.

“I am so tired of pretending to be okay.” He whispers finally, closing his eyes. And Cris can feel his tiredness. He can feel how much things hurt Leo. His childhood, the way his people treated him, loneliness. He wraps his arms around Leo tightly, pulling him closer, burying Leo's face in his chest. Leo closes his eyes tightly, one hand grapping Cris' shirt. Cris' hands meet behind his back, softly caressing his skin on his sweatshirt. He places his chin on top of Leo's head.

“You don't have to pretend with me.” He closes his eyes, too, doesn't want this moment to ever end. _“Eu te amo.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *'let me love you' (if I did wrong and it's actually eu te amar, then please feel free to correct me :) )  
> *'I love you'
> 
>  
> 
> _"He would never say 'thanks to me …'" Juanjo Brau explains. "Leo never asked me for anything but he offered me everything. He’s a person who always wants to give, he prefers it. Then it’s up to you if you take or not. He is a man of few words, but of great feelings. I get choked up speaking about him like this but I would like people to know him as he really is, people don’t know what he is like."_
> 
>  
> 
> _No sign of the stress the family was going through. Neither the players nor the trainers at La Masía knew that Leo cried at night alone in his bedroom [..] He knew that (becoming a footballer) would require sacrifices and cause suffering. [...] No room for weakness in public. But the kid gave away clues: after spending three hours training, if you count the time getting there, changing, warm-up, exercises and shower afterwards, Leo always wanted to stay on the pitch a bit longer. For a young footballer, someone who has not yet made it to the first team, this is what loneliness is: six o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, already dark if it’s winter, a few hours after the morning game, in your house, a long way from home. The rest of the evening stretches before you. No one to go out with, nowhere to go anyway, tucked up in bed after supper, with only the sound of the television or, in the case of Leo, his father’s ‘goodnight’ … hard, very hard._
> 
>  
> 
> I read Balague's book 'Messi' when it first came out but I had to check some pages again for the sake of this story. Especially about Leo's misterious illness. And some many great quotes there helped me to get in Leo's head better (as much as one could, he is an interesting man after all). And yes, this is how I think he is. I thought these 2 parts would help you to understand my Leo better :)
> 
> One more note; Leo doesn't wear neckerchief but he always wraps something around his neck ([x](http://oi58.tinypic.com/qp00b5.jpg), [x](http://oi61.tinypic.com/29kp5p5.jpg), [x](http://oi59.tinypic.com/4t663c.jpg)) like scarves or his oponnents' jersey after the match (yeah he did that and created all those superman memes lol) and I am secretly loving it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!
> 
> I am putting [this](http://espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=Lionel-Messi) article here because some of you think a part of my Messi is always sad and I think this article explains why.

Leo watches Cris trying to lit a candle amusedly. This is the third match he ruined. He complained about burning his own finger and Leo offered to do it for him but Cris refused. He said a true gentleman wouldn't let his lover do all the job, after all it's Cris who invited Leo here, promising him a lovely evening.

“You forgot to pay your electric bill again?” Leo asks, grins at him. Cris, finally successfully lit the candle, looks at him, smiling softly, so unlike him.

“No, I did not. I just wanted it to be like old times.”

“Wow, you make it sound like it was, what, 4 years ago?” Leo laughs freely, softly, cheerfully. And Cris is glad he can make Leo laugh like this. He knows Leo for 11 years now but he has never seen him smile or laugh like that.

“It was almost 8 months ago, darling.” Cris says and Leo looks away, cannot hide the stupid smile on his face. Cris walks to him, Leo doesn't look at him like he is embarrassed, not used to feeling this way around Cris. Cris reaches forward and takes Leo's hands between his bigger ones, pulling his lover closer. Leo finally lifts his head, looks directly into Cris' eyes. Cris smiles at him, hands go up to his face, cupping Leo's face between his hands. “I love you.” He whispers against Leo's lips before kissing him. Leo answers right away, hands find Cris' hair, pulling him closer. Cris wraps his arms around him. Leo pulls away from kiss to breath but Cris doesn't let him move. They stand there like that for a second. Then Cris pulls Leo down, sitting on the wooden floor with his lover next to him.

“Remember when I first brought you here?” Cris asks, taking foods out of the bag. Leo leans back and places his hand of the floor, looking around the small house. He remembers this place very well. Everything was so different back then.

“Ah, yes.”

“You thought I brought you here to murder you.” Cris says amusedly. Leo protests quickly.

“Can you blame me? You were acting strange back then.”

“It's because I couldn't make peace with my feelings for you.” Cris says seriously, opening soy sauce bottle for sushis. “They were driving me crazy and I was so mad at myself for feeling this way about you. And I was confused, too. Why you out of all people?”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” Leo rolls his eyes, Cris looks at him over his shoulder.

“You know what I mean.” Cris says, looking at Leo with an amused expression. “I remember you saying you wanted to see me making out with myself.”

“I did not say that!” Leo protest once again, loudly this time. “I just said it was funny how Crackòvia portrayed you as a person who would make out with himself.” He eyes Cris playfully for a second before continuing. “Hmm, now thinking, they were not wrong at all.”

Leo was not expecting the next movement. So when Cris moves forward, he falls backward surprisedly. Cris doesn't give him a chance to move, lies on top of Leo. Leo tries to push him off of himself playfully but Cris catches his arms and pinning them over his head.

“What about I make out with you?” He whispers huskily against Leo's lips. Eyes are intense and deep with love.

“Ugh, you are such a dork.” Leo laughs. “I don't believe you are the older one here.”

“Maybe you have something for old men.” Cris says jokingly, hand running over Leo's jeans, caressing his thigh.

“It's only 2 years, you idiot.” Leo says, finally pushing Cris off of himself. Cris pouts.

“Why are you so mean to me while I love you so much?” He says, still lying on the floor. Leo gets up, he is laughing at Cris for acting like a 5 years old. “You don't even say it.” Cris says without thinking and Leo freezes. Cris bites his lower lip. He didn't mean to say it like this. He was joking, of course he was. He knows the reasons and he wants to give Leo some time, he doesn't want to push him or make him believe he has to say it even when he is not comfortable. He wants Leo to be comfortable and happy with him.

Leo finally turns to him, eyes soft and he looks older and tired again. Cris hates it. He hates himself for making him look like this again. But Leo smiles softly like assuring he is fine.

“I am sorry. Give me some time, I know I am asking a lot but--” Cris catches Leo's hand and pulls him down, next to himself. He presses his finger against Leo's lips, silencing him.

“Shh, no. I am sorry, I was just joking. I was not serious. I know. And all the time in the world is yours. Just being here with you is enough for me.” That moment Leo looks at him with intense warm eyes, filled with love and gratefulness.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “You are so nice to me.” Cris grins at him.

“I won't be so nice to you next week.” Leo punches his arm playfully before pulling him into a passionate kiss.

 

 

It is not like Leo doesn't feel the same way. He does, he proved it with his behaviours. And Cris doesn't question his feelings but Leo is always having a hard time expressing his feelings and Cris respects that. That means it is not just another unserious relationship for Leo (not that Cris thinks Leo's ever had a unserious relationship). And Cris doesn't want to make Leo uncomfortable but a part of him is dying to hear him saying those words.

 

 

It is not like Leo doesn't feel the same way. It is just he finds it so hard to say it out loud. When he was a child, he was lonely, he was hurt, he was sad. He couldn't say any of these loudly. He wanted to, at some point. He wanted to share his loneliness and his sadness with his friend, Gerard and Cesc and maybe with Victor. But he couldn't. Words didn't come out of his mouth. So he let it go. And people let him be. They know how Leo is. But they never knew how Leo would like to be.

 

 

After Real Madrid winning league and Barça winning Copa del Rey (and Champions), it's inevitable for two lovers to face each other in Supercopa de España. But it is okay because both know where they are standing. And they will never let the other distract them.

 

 

A new season means a new start which also means new cups to win. And it starts with, of course, Supercopa de España. Most would believe that it is not an important trophy and that no one will remember it later, losing it wouldn't mean much to players who won everything, right? Wrong. These players are here for a reason. They are considered world class (some even world's bests at their positions). And how could they reach here, where they stand today, without being extremely passionate and competitive? Of course, even a not so important thropy like Supercopa de España is important for them. Especially when they are playing against their rivals.

 

 

The moment Leo ties his boots and ready to come onto the pitch, he knows today is not going to be his day. You know that thing you feel right before you get sick. Leo is familiar to this feeling. And this is exactly how he feels at the moment.

“Are you okay?” Neymar asks, his hand is warm against Leo's back. He is normally a careless, fun guy, not taking anything seriously. But right now his face is dead serious. He actually looks worried about him. So Leo smiles at his young friend, putting an arm around his shoulder, to convince him and maybe for some support.

“I am okay. Don't worry.” Neymar frowns at him.

“If you are sick again--” Leo cuts him off.

“Nothing I can't handle.” Neymar rolls his eyes.

“It is only Supercopa de España, Leo. You don't have to die for this.” Leo laughs, already feeling better. The smell of the grass, the sound of excited fans.. This is where he belongs, on the pitch.

“Yeah but it will be nice to beat Merengues, no?” Neymar grins at the older man.

“It will not be nice, at least not for them.” Both laughs.

 

 

The truth is, El Clásico could be called 'overrated'. Of course there is politics and independencia which makes these matches always so important and intense but then there are grown ass men arguing, sometimes diving and even fighting. It is not always nice to watch, everyone would admit. But still, all eyes especially on them tonight. And knowing that, Leo hides his discomfort. It is not so bad anyway. But with time passing, Leo feels that he is about to vomit. He also has a terrible headache.

Leo watches Ivan crossing the ball, it lands on Neymar's boots perfectly like this is where it belongs and Neymar doesn't waste any second, he dribbles past his friend from national team, Marcelo and takes the shot. Keylor Navas, who is protecting Real Madrid's goal tonight, saves it without any effort. Ball lands directly in his hands. Neymar curses himself silently. Keylor sends ball to Pepe who passes to Isco and Isco runs toward Barça's goal. Leo knows he should follow his teammates, help them as he always does but he doesn't feel like moving. It is like he forgot how to take a step forward or walk. He lifts his head and looks around. Camp Nou is alive and loud. Suddenly it looks bigger and scarier than ever and Leo finally understands why their opponents hate playing here. Now that he is sick, it looks like all these people, stands, are leaning toward him. Ready to swallow down him, bury him in this stadium. Lights are too bright, it hurts his eyes.

“Leo!” Leo lifts his head, realizing Dani waving at him like a mad man. Then Leo notices the ball rolling toward him. Oh, it is them who are attacking now. Leo runs forward, catches the ball before it passes the thick white line. He controls it easily. Marcelo is fast enough to catch up with him. Leo stands there for a second, not looking at ball. He never looks at the ball. He knows where it is, he has it. He looks at his opponent's feet, waiting for him to make a move, so that Leo can dribble his other side, paralysing his opponent. But then his vision goes blury and Marcelo takes his chance, kicks the ball, sending it outside the pitch. Marcelo raises an eyebrow, Messi doesn't move, he stands there like he is waiting for something. His eyes are focused on the same spot.

But unlike Leo, Marcelo has no time to waste, jogging away quickly. Leo stays behind, pressing his palms against his knees, leaning forward. Neymar notices him being unwell, wants to go to his friend's side and help him. But game is still ongoing and Leo would kill him if he sacrifices a chance to help him. Neymar grits his teeth angrily. He is not sure who he is so angry at. Enrique for not noticing how sick Leo looks or letting him play like this or himself for not scoring. Maybe if he scores, Leo would accept to taken off.

Leo feels a warm hand against his back. He wants to push it, he is already burning despite it is being a chilly late summer night in Barcelona. Instead, Leo closes his eyes. Maybe he needs a break. The pounding in his head makes his knees weak, palms sweaty and Leo wonders why the fuck is his head hurting so much. He feels it then, he is going to vomit. He closes a hand against his mouth and leans forward, almost falling on his knees. But a hand catches him, slowly guiding his body to ground. Leo presses his sweaty forehead against the cold grass. It feels better.

“Shh.” Someone whispers next to him, brushing his hair away softly. “It is okay. I am here. God, why are you keep doing this to yourself?” When Leo recognizes the voice, he turns his head quickly, his eyes wide open. Cris is kneeling next to him. It seems like game stopped. He doesn't see then but Neymar runs toward them, Navas and Pepe look each other confusedly. They watched Cris yelling at ref to stop the game and running toward Messi without waiting for an answer so it is only understandable of them to be confused.

Leo's hand touches Cris' thigh, pushing him away so softly that he fails miserably.

“Go.” He whispers, lifting his head slighlty. “What are you doing, they shouldn't see us together.” Cris doesn't tell him it's too late and that he already made it clear that he cares about Leo unlike what people think.

“It's okay.” Cris whispers back. “Don't worry.” Leo wants to argue but he feels too tired to do so. He presses his head against the grass again. Neymar chooses that moment to arrive their side. He pushes Cristiano away, not even looking at him. He kneels next to Leo, hand finds Leo's neck, caressing the soft skin. Cris, on his ass now, watches them with a blank expression. Pepe helps him to get on his feet when other Barça players arrive with medics. Pepe pulls him away from the scene and Cris is grateful because he doesn't feel like walking, he doesn't want to leave Leo's side.

He watches Leo to get on his feet, legs looking shaky, hand grasping Neymar's wrist tightly. He smiles at his friends, probably telling them he is fine. Cris' eyes stay on him. He is not sure how he feels. Looking at Neymar makes something crystal clear for him.

Cris may love Leo more than anyone else in the world but he can't give Leo what Neymar or others can offer. He can't be there for him all the time. He cannot express his love openly in public. They will always have to hide behind closed doors, they will pray to share a day off so that they can see each other. Cris takes slow steps backward but not tearing his gaze away from Leo.

Cris feels like he is being dragged away from Leo by an invisible force. He knows it is stupid but he feels like something between them will change after that. Maybe Leo would decide it is too much for him. He doesn't seem like a long distance relationship type. And it hurt him how Leo thought about him first, pushing him away instead of pulling him closer for support. Even in this state of him.

Leo choses that moment to look at him over Neymar's shoulder. Neymar hugging him closely, whispering something to his ear. But it seems like Leo doesn't listen him. His eyes are intense, more than ever. Cris always thought they were deep but right now it's like a bottomless pit. His eyes are softy, loving and caring. Cris doesn't think he is crying but his eyes are shiny under the bright lights of Camp Nou.

Cris isn't good at lip reading but he recognizes the words he whispered to Leo many times in last 2 months.

_Te amo._

And Cris doesn't care if Leo ruined his game because he cannot focus after this. His heart pounding in his chest like a bird determined to escape its cage. He feels like he is going to burst with joy. All the bad feelings go away quickly with a silent _te amo_ from Leo.

Becuase maybe Cris cannot give Leo what he deserves, not like Neymar could. But he is the only one who makes Leo feel this way. And this is more than enough for him.

So Cris whispers back, even though Leo can't understand what he is saying. He knows Leo already knows.

 

_Minha vida, meu amor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, I am not a vdery romantic person so maybe I ruined their first (well, Leo's first) I love you but hey, I don't believe this kind of things. Anyway, I remember saying I don't ship them but I can't deny that I really loved writing them. What do you think? Was it good? Should I write Messi/Ronaldo fics again?
> 
> Lastly, an amazing fanart by [detodores](detodores.tumblr.com). Her fanarts are amazing!


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